Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew 9783161614521, 9783161538865, 9781481315685, 9781481315722, 3161614526

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Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

BMSEC BMSEC

BB A AYY LL O OR R –– M MO OH HR R SS II EE BB EE C CK K Studies Studiesin inEarly EarlyChristianity Christianity

Wayne Coppins and Simon Gathercole Series Editors ALSO AVAILABLE From Jesus to the New Testament

Early Christian Theology and the Origin of the New Testament Canon

Jens Schröter (2013)

Israel, Church, and the Gentiles in the Gospel of Matthew Matthias Konradt (2014) Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology

Christoph Markschies (2015)

The Gospel according to Luke Volume I: Luke 1–­9:50

Michael Wolter (2016) The Gospel according to Luke Volume II: Luke 9:51–­24

Michael Wolter (2017) The Glory of the Crucified One

Christology and Theology in the Gospel of John

Jörg Frey (2018)

Jesus and Judaism Martin Hengel and Anna Maria Schwemer (2019) Paul on Humility Eve-­Marie Becker (2020) Love as Agape

The Early Christian Concept and Modern Discourse

Oda Wischmeyer (2021)

Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

Matthias Konradt Translated by Wayne Coppins

BAYLOR UNIVERSITY PRESS

Mohr Siebeck

© 2022 by Baylor University Press Waco, Texas 76798 All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission in writing of Baylor University Press. Cover design by Natalya Balnova Book design and typesetting by Baylor University Press This English edition is published in Germany by Mohr Siebeck under ISBN 978-3-16-161452-1. Chapters 1–6 previously appeared in German in Matthias Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016) with ISBN 978-3-16-153886-5. Chapter 7 previously appeared in German in the journal Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft. See the Author’s Preface for additional publication information. Distributors For all other countries For Europe and the UK Baylor University Press Mohr Siebeck One Bear Place #97363 Wilhelmstr. 18 Waco, Texas 76798 72074 Tübingen USA Germany The Library of Congress has cataloged this book under ISBN 978-­1-­4813-­1568-­5. Library of Congress Control Number: 2022938612 Web PDF ISBN: 978-1-4813-1572-2

To the memory of Christoph Burchard (1931–­2020)

Contents

Editors’ Preface

ix

Author’s Preface

xiii

1 Matthew in Context The Relationship of the Matthean Community to Judaism 2

David’s Son and Lord A Sketch of the Davidic-­Messianic Aspects of Matthean Christology

3 The Baptism of the Son of God Reflections on the Baptism of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew 4 The Perfect Fulfillment of the Torah and the Conflict with the Pharisees in the Gospel of Matthew 5 The Reception and Interpretation of the Decalogue in the Gospel of Matthew 6 “Blessed Are the Merciful” (Matt 5.7) Compassion and Mercy as Ethical Attitude in the Gospel of Matthew

1 37 59 75 101 131

7 “Take My Yoke upon You and Learn from Me!” (Matt 11.29) Matthew 11.28–­30 and the Christological Dimension of Matthean Ethics

159

Bibliography

187

Index of Ancient Sources

219

Index of Authors

213

vii

Editors’ Preface

The Baylor–­Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity series has aimed to facilitate increased dialogue between German and Anglophone scholarship by making recent German research available in English translation. In this way, we have sought to play a role in the advancement of our common field of study. The target audience for the series is primarily scholars and graduate students, though some volumes may also be accessible to advanced undergraduates. In selecting books for the series, we have especially sought out works by leading German scholars that represent outstanding contributions in their own right and also serve as windows into the wider world of German-­language scholarship. As holder of a chair in New Testament theology at Heidelberg University and editor of the Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, Matthias Konradt is one of the most prominent scholars of early Christianity in the world today. He is especially well known for his scholarship on Matthew, James, Paul, New Testament ethics, and Judaism in the Hellenistic-­Roman era. His major publications on Matthew include his monograph Israel, Kirche und die Völker im Matthäusevangelium (WUNT 215; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007; ET = Israel, Church, and the Gentiles in the Gospel of Matthew, trans. Kathleen Ess [BMSEC 2; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2014]) and his commentary Das Evangelium nach Matthäus (NTD 1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015; ET = The Gospel according to Matthew, trans. M. Eugene Boring [Waco: Baylor University Press, 2020]). In addition to the information about his research and publications provided at Matthias Konradt’s university website, a bibliography of his English publications can be found at Wayne Coppins’ blog German for Neutestamentler. The present volume, Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew, trans. Wayne Coppins (BMSEC 10; Waco: Baylor University ix

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Press, 2022), consists of seven of Matthias Konradt’s most important essays on the First Gospel. The first chapter provides an exceptional guide to the main points of controversy in recent scholarship on the relationship of the Matthean community to Judaism and to the interpretive problems that have given rise to the disagreements. At the same time, it also concisely presents Konradt’s own views on these key issues. For example, in his discussion of the contested question of circumcision, Konradt argues that circumcision plays no role in the mission to the gentiles for Matthew. The next six chapters shed further light on the interrelated topics of Christology, Torah, and ethics. Chapter 2 is focused on the Davidic-­messianic aspects of the Matthean Christology, while chapter 3 addresses both the character of the Matthean Son of God conception and the controversial question of the meaning of righteousness in Matthew. The next two chapters develop Konradt’s understanding of Matthew’s Torah hermeneutic, with special attention being given to the interpretation of the antitheses in the Sermon on the Mount. For Konradt, the antitheses do not represent an intensification, radicalization, or extension of the commandments of the Torah but rather the Matthean Jesus’ radical, expansive interpretation of these commandments. The final two chapters continue to build upon Konradt’s understanding of Matthew’s Torah hermeneutic, while also showing that Matthew’s ethical instruction cannot be reduced to Torah interpretation. This is especially the case for the final chapter, which argues that Jesus’ exhortation to take his yoke upon oneself (11.29) refers comprehensively to the submission under his rule as the Messiah, with the observance of his instruction being included as one important element. Among the many significant exegetical arguments in the book, special mention may be made here of Konradt’s robust argument in chapter 6 that “the least of these my brothers” in Matt 25.40 must be understood to mean “all human beings who are suffering hardship.” With regard to the translator’s divided allegiance to the source and target languages, I (Wayne Coppins) have generally attempted to adhere closely to the German wording, while allowing for some adjustments for the sake of clarity and readability in English. In some cases, of course, communication with Matthias Konradt has led to more extensive reformulations and occasionally to minor additions or subtractions vis-­à-­vis the German version, including some new interactions with secondary literature. As with previous translations, I am thankful to Simon Gathercole for his careful reading of the manuscript and his excellent suggestions for improving it. Likewise, I am grateful to Matthias Konradt for his constructive and insightful feedback on my translation and for taking the time to update and revise the English version at certain points. A word of thanks is also due to our copyeditor, J. Andrew Edwards, and our proofreader, Dan



Editors’ Preface

xi

Khan, for their help in fine-­tuning and polishing this book, and to Elena Müller, David Aycock, Cade Jarrell, and Jenny Hunt for guiding the process of producing this volume from start to finish. Finally, I am especially thankful to my wife, Ingie Hovland, and my daughters, Sophia and Simone, for creating space in our life for my translation work. Since this book represents the tenth and final volume in the Baylor–­Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity series, both editors would like to take this opportunity to express our sincere thanks to the many people who have contributed to the success of the series over the last ten years. In the first place, we would like to thank Henning Ziebritzki and Carey Newman for their exceptional support and guidance in the establishment of the series in 2011–­2013 and for the many concrete ways in which they helped to shape and promote it in the years that followed. Likewise, we are very grateful to David Aycock, Katharina Gutekunst, and Elena Müller for their collaboration in the subsequent development of the series and to the many other wonderful people at Baylor University Press and Mohr Siebeck with whom we had the pleasure to work, especially Jenny Hunt, Cade Jarrell, Jordan Rowan Fannin, Diane Smith, and Kendra Mäschke. Great thanks are also due to Kathleen Ess for her outstanding translation of the second volume in the series and to Christoph Heilig for his excellent work in the cotranslation of volumes 4 through 6 and for his invaluable help with difficult sentences in many other volumes. Finally, we are especially grateful to the authors of the individual volumes for their collaboration and to the many readers of the series who have given us encouragement along the way. Wayne Coppins and Simon Gathercole Athens, Georgia, and Cambridge, England September 2021

Author’s Preface

It fills me with great joy that after my monograph Israel, Church, and the Gentiles in the Gospel of Matthew (trans. Kathleen Ess, 2014), some of my essays that have been published as a collection in the WUNT series (Studien zum Matthäusevangelium, WUNT 358; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016) are now also being published in English translation in the series “Baylor–­Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity.” These essays investigate in greater depth several central themes of the Gospel of Matthew that could be treated only very briefly in my commentary, which has likewise been published by Baylor University Press in English translation (The Gospel according to Matthew: A Commentary, trans. M. Eugene Boring, 2020). I thank the editors of the series “Baylor–­Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity,” Wayne Coppins and Simon Gathercole, for the idea of this volume and for their suggestions concerning which essays to include. I thank Wayne Coppins for his excellent translation, which deserves the highest admiration. It was a great pleasure to read it and see how accurately he reproduced subtle nuances and transformed complicated German multiclause sentences into elegant English. To complete such a translation and, among other things, also to reconfigure the literature references when English translations of works originally published in German are available is an enormously time-­intensive undertaking. I therefore owe Wayne Coppins the deepest gratitude not only for the high quality of his translation but also for the invested time. The international exchange across linguistic borders presupposes multilingualism—­or outstanding works of translation such as those for which the series “Baylor–­Mohr Siebeck Studies in Early Christianity” has set standards. I have learned a great deal myself from English-­language scholarship. Accordingly, it also fills me with deep gratefulness that my own reflections on the Gospel of Matthew, thanks to xiii

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Author’s Preface

their translation, are now more easily accessible to scholars outside the German-­language sphere. While the studies selected for this volume reflect the fact that the analysis of the theological and social relationship to Judaism has constituted the focus of Matthean scholarship in the last few decades, they also lead at the same time beyond this. The first chapter, “Matthew in Context,” has a foundational character. Taking up the controversial discussion of the placement of the evangelist and his community in Judaism, it does not simply present only my own position in these debates but attempts to present the main points of controversy and to identify the interpretive problems that underlie the different positions; and, at the end, it also sketches out perspectives for subsequent scholarship. The next two chapters deal with central aspects of Matthean Christology, chapter 2 with Matthew’s characteristic configuration of the Davidic messiahship of Jesus, and chapter 3 with the presentation of the baptism of Jesus, which grants an exemplary glimpse into the Matthean conception of Jesus’ divine sonship. Since the notion of righteousness, which Matthew has inserted into the baptism pericope in 3.15, is also investigated in this context, this chapter simultaneously forms a transition to the ethical questions that are thematized in the chapters that follow. Chapter 4 is devoted to the Matthean stance toward the Torah, one of the main questions of Matthean ethics, which continues to be hotly disputed. Building on chapter 4, chapter 5 more specifically takes up the reception and interpretation of the Decalogue in the Gospel of Matthew and shows that in the Matthean understanding, the social commandments of the Decalogue present much more than the mere formulation of a minimal consensus but rather radically challenge human beings in central areas of their daily action. Finally, with the analysis of mercy (chapter 6) and the detailed interpretation of the invitation of Jesus in Matt 11.28–30 (chapter 7), the last two chapters show that Matthean ethics are not exhausted in the interpretation of the Torah. Rather, in the way the Gospel of Matthew brings together Old Testament and early Jewish heritage with an orientation toward the ethical potential of the Christ event, it proves to be one of the main testimonies of New Testament ethics. All the chapters have been reviewed for the English translation, and more recent literature has been added selectively. The first six chapters have been translated from the German versions of the essays published in M. Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium, edited by Alida Euler, WUNT 358 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016). The seventh chapter has been translated from the original publication in Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft. The original publication information for the individual essays is as follows:

















Author’s Preface

xv

(1) “Matthäus im Kontext. Eine Bestandsaufnahme zur Frage des Verhältnisses der matthäischen Gemeinde(n) zum Judentum.” Pages 3–­42 in M. Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium. Edited by Alida Euler. WUNT 358. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. (2) “Davids Sohn und Herr. Eine Skizze zum davidisch-­messianischen Kolorit der matthäischen Christologie.” Pages 249–­77 in Diasynchron. Beiträge zur Exegese, Theologie und Rezeption der Hebräischen Bibel (Festschrift für Walter Dietrich). Edited by T. Naumann and R. Hunziker-­Rodewald. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2009. (In lightly revised form in M. Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium, 146–­70.) (3) “Die Taufe des  Gottessohnes. Erwägungen zur Taufe Jesu im Matthäusevangelium (Mt 3,13–­17).” Pages 257–­73 in Neutestamentliche Exegese im Dialog. Hermeneutik –­Wirkungsgeschichte –­ Matthäusevangelium (Festschrift für Ulrich Luz). Edited by P. Lampe, M. Mayordomo, and M. Sato. Neukirchen-­Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2008. (In lightly expanded and revised form in M. Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium, 201–­18.) (4) “Die vollkomene Erfüllung der Tora und der Konflikt mit den Pharisäern im Matthäusevangelium.” Pages 129–­ 52 in Das Gesetz im frühen Judentum und im Neuen Testament (Festschrift für Christoph Burchard). Edited by D. Sänger and M. Konradt. NTOA/StUNT 57. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006. (In revised form in M. Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium, 288–­315.) (5) “Rezeption und Interpretation des Dekalogs im Matthäusevangelium.” Pages 131–­58 in The Gospel of Matthew at the Crossroads of Early Christianity. Edited by D. Senior. BETL 243. Leuven: Peeters, 2011. (In expanded and significantly revised form in M. Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium, 316–­47.) (6) “‘Glückselig sind die Barmherzigen’ (Mt 5,7). Mitleid und Barmherzigkeit als ethische Haltung im Matthäusevangelium.” JBTh 30 (2015): 129–­58 (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht). (In M. Konradt, Studien zum Matthäusevangelium, 413–­41.) (7) “‘Nehmt auf euch mein Joch und lernt von mir!’ (Mt 11,29). Mt 11,28–­30 und die christologische Dimension der matthäischen Ethik.” ZNW 109 (2018): 1–­31 (De Gruyter).

I thank all the publishers mentioned above for their permission to continue to use the studies here in English translation. Alongside the series editors, Wayne Coppins and Simon Gathercole, I would also like to thank the publishers Baylor University Press and Mohr

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Siebeck as well as David Aycock and Henning Ziebritzki as their representatives for the friendly reception of this volume into their jointly published series, as well as the editorial team at Baylor University Press, especially Cade Jarrell and Jenny Hunt, for their excellent work in the production of the volume. I dedicate the translation of my studies on Matthew to the memory of Christoph Burchard, who died in December 2020. By doing this I wish to express my deep gratitude for what I have learned from him in scholarship, both when I was his doctoral student and in the years that followed. Matthias Konradt Heidelberg September 2021

1

Matthew in Context The Relationship of the Matthean Community to Judaism

If we inquire into the context of the Gospel of Matthew with a view to the last few decades of scholarship,1 then the historical placement of Matthew and of the Matthean community (or communities) in their relationship to Judaism stands out as the most prominent point of discussion, while the placement of the Gospel of Matthew within emerging Christianity has long been neglected and has only received greater attention in more recent scholarship.2 In his 1999 essay, Donald Senior noted as a magnus consensus of Matthean scholarship that “Matthew’s interface with Judaism . . . is the fundamental key to determining the social context and theological perspective of the gospel.”3 This assessment is still valid today. Within this consensus, however, it is not only minor details that continue to be controversial. Thus, with regard to the social placement of the community, it continues to be disputed whether—­as has been prominently advocated, e.g., by Ulrich Luz—­Matthew looks back at a painful process of the separation of his own group from Judaism and seeks to work through this development,4 or whether, alternatively, the community finds itself in a

1

This chapter is based on a paper that was originally presented to the seminar “Matthew in Context: An Exploration of Matthew in Relation to the Judaism and Christianity of Its Time” in the framework of the 66th General Meeting of the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas (SNTS) in Annandale-­on-­Hudson on Aug 2–­6, 2011. This paper was lightly revised for the German publication in 2016 and again for this English version. 2 See, e.g., Van de Sandt 2005; Sim/Repschinski 2008; Becker/Runesson 2011; Willitts 2011; McIver 2012; Wong 2012, 107–­30; Becker/Runesson 2013; Doole 2013; Konradt 2016, 43–­94 (on Matthew’s relation to Mark and Paul); Strotmann/Tiwald 2016; Konradt 2018c, 684–­701. 3 Senior 1999, 5 (cf. also Senior 2011, 6–­15). In addition to Senior, see, e.g., Luz 2007, 45–­48 (GV = 2002a, 85–­89). Cf. now also Kampen 2019; Runesson/Gurtner 2020. 4 See Luz 2007, 54 (GV = 2002a, 96); Luz 2005a, 252–­53 (GV = 1993, 319). 1

2

Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

current and for them oppressive conflict with their Pharisaic opponents5 over who the legitimate trustee of the theological tradition of Israel is.6 Since the 1990s, the view of an inner-­Jewish placement of the Matthean group within the framework of the formative processes in early Judaism after the Roman-­Jewish War, an approach fundamentally set in motion by the works of Andrew Overman and Anthony Saldarini, has developed into an influential position.7 Here, the Matthean community is regarded as a deviant Jewish group, whereas the universal characteristics of the Gospel, especially the sending to all nations in Matt 28.18–­20, move into the background. Among others, Boris Repschinski, David Sim, Anders Runesson, and John Kampen have pursued further the path taken by Overman and Saldarini.8 This contextual placement of the Gospel of Matthew can coalesce terminologically in such a way that the Matthean group is no longer designated as Jewish Christianity, but rather Judaism appears as the superordinated entity and there is talk of Matthean or Christian Judaism.9 To be sure, the approach that views the Matthean community as a deviant Jewish group has also met with opposition.10 The following considerations aim less at providing a detailed presentation of recent scholarship in all its varieties. Rather, the primary goal is to bring to light the main points of controversy against the background of the discussions of the recent past and identify the interpretive problems that underlie the disagreements. I will begin with (1) the interpretation of the Matthean talk of “their/your synagogues.” Next, I will address (2) the question—­which is answered differently in contemporary scholarship—­whether the community is still engaged in a mission to Israel. Conversely, different answers are also given to (3) the question of how long the community has carried out a mission to the gentiles or whether it understands this to be a decisive task for them at all. It is also characteristic for the most recent phase of scholarship that (4) the taken-­for-­grantedness with which the mission to the gentiles was viewed as a circumcision-­free mission has been called into question, and the mode of entry of human 5

44–­67.

Cf. above all Overman 1990, 35–­38, 68–­70, 79–­90, 115–­16; Saldarini 1994,

6 I am bracketing out other positions here (for an overview, see Luz 2007, 52–­53; GV = 2002a, 95–­96), which, if I see correctly, play only a small role in recent research. 7 See esp. Overman 1990; Saldarini 1994. See further Overman 1996; Saldarini 1991; Saldarini 1992a. 8 Sim 1998b; Repschinski 2000; Runesson 2016; Kampen 2019. 9 See Overman 1990, 2 and elsewhere; Saldarini 1994, 1, 4, 7–­8, and elsewhere; Sim 1998b, passim; Runesson 2008, 100; Hartin 2000, 277. For a critical response to this approach, see Hagner 2003. Carter 2007 provides a nuanced critical engagement with the designations “Jewish Christianity” and “Christian Judaism,” with special reference to the positions of Hagner, on the one hand, and Saldarini, on the other. 10 See, e.g., Foster 2004; Deines 2021.



Matthew in Context

3

beings from the nations into the community is likewise controversial. The fact that this question is of central importance for the historical contextualization of the Gospel of Matthew is obvious. If gentile Christians were circumcised, the Matthean group would need to be classified as a conservative Christ-­believing Judaism. Finally, I briefly discuss (5) the popular metaphorical presentation of the placement of the community with the image of muri within the framework of the intra/extra muros dichotomy and ask whether the static metaphor of muri is suitable at all for providing an adequate description of the Matthean community (or communities). At the end, possible perspectives for future scholarship are sketched out. 1. The Matthean Talk of ‘Their’ or ‘Your Synagogues’ A widespread and prominent argument of advocates of the extra-­muros position is the Matthean talk of “their” or “your synagogues” (Matt 4.23; 9.35; 10.17; 12.9; 13.54; 23.34). This is said to make clear that the Matthean community is located outside of the synagogue association and thus outside of Judaism.11 Against this view, it has been objected that a more careful sifting of the attestations makes a differentiation necessary. Not all the attestations indicate distance in the same way.12 Conversely, one also cannot, as Peter Fiedler postulated that we could, reduce all the attestations to the denominator that the possessive pronoun “indicates only from the perspective of the author writing outside of Israel that the synagogues in Galilee and Judaea are meant, which Jesus and his disciples visit as a matter of course just like the rest of the Jewish population there,”13 which, according to Fiedler, also applies to the Matthean community: “The community members of Matthew apparently go to the same synagogue(s) as his adversaries.”14 Let us look at the attestations in more detail. In the summaries of the narrator in Matt 4.23 (par. Mark 1.39) and 9.35, “their synagogue” can be related to the synagogues in Galilee, without a distancing becoming visible. The redactional addition of αὐτῶν in Matt 13.54, where the concern is with Jesus’ rejection in Nazareth, can be understood in the sense of 4.23. “Their synagogue” is the synagogue of the Nazarenes. In 12.9, by contrast, “their synagogue” is, according to the context, the synagogue of the Pharisees, and the redactional talk of the flogging “in their/ your synagogues” in 10.17; 23.34—­both attestations occur in a speech of Jesus—­points clearly to distance. Moreover, as in 12.9, the concern in 23.34, according to the context, is with the synagogues of the scribes and

11

12 13 14

See, for many, Stanton 1992a, 128–­29. For the following, cf. Saldarini 1994, 66–­67; as well as Przybylski 1986, 193–­94. P. Fiedler 2006, 102. P. Fiedler 2006, 102.

4

Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

Pharisees. Furthermore, reference may be made to the fact that Mark’s ἀρχισυνάγωγος Jairus (Mark 5.22) becomes a mere ἄρχων in Matt 9.18. However, the fact that Matthew—­in distinction from his employment of the term ‘scribes,’ which is used both for “their” scribes (7.29) and for the Matthean group’s own scribes (13.52; 23.34)—­never uses ‘synagogue’ as a designation for his group’s own gatherings or places of assembly but instead speaks of the ἐκκλησία (16.18; 18.17) is not to be evaluated as an indication of a distancing from Judaism. As is well known, Matthew takes up here (even though he is the only evangelist to do so) an established term in the Christ-­believing sphere. Its use probably goes back to the Christ-­believing Jerusalem Hellenists,15 where it does not mark out a standpoint outside of Judaism but ‘merely’ gives expression to the special self-­understanding of the group.

How is this evidence to be interpreted? In my view, it cannot be denied that the Matthean community organized itself as a distinct group apart from the synagogue(s), held its own gatherings, and viewed the ‘synagogue(s)’ as a place that was dominated by its opponents. In other words, it is difficult to contest that a certain institutional stabilization apart from the synagogal gatherings had been reached. It must be asked, however, whether the distance toward the synagogue articulated here can be equated without further ado with a position ‘outside of Judaism,’ that is, whether it is ruled out or at least implausible to understand the differentiation into synagogue and ecclesia as a process of differentiation that is still inner-­Jewish. Answering the question of what conclusions follow from the findings sketched above is dependent on factors external to the text, namely, on how Judaism and its diversity at the time (and in the local environment) of Matthew is imagined. Moreover, the difficulty that the Gospel of Matthew cannot be localized with adequate certainty also plays a role here. If the Gospel arose in a local context in which there was only one synagogue and in which this—­in its functions, which were, as is well known, not only religious—­was a point of reference for the local Jews that established a fundamental unity, then the establishment of an independent organization would scarcely be able to be evaluated as anything other than a significant step in the course of a process of separation. A different picture could, however, emerge if the Gospel of Matthew arose in an urban context with a larger Jewish population in which there were multiple places of assembly—­as was the case, for example, in Alexandria,16 Rome,17 and, 15 16

132–­38. 17

Thus Trebilco 2011. For the existence of multiple synagogues in Alexandria, see, e.g., Philo, Legat.

See, e.g., Philo, Legat. 156–­57; and, further, the survey based on the evaluation of grave inscriptions in Leon 1995, 135–­66. Cf. further, e.g., Claussen 2002, 103–­11.



Matthew in Context

5

if we consider the Syrian sphere in which the Gospel probably emerged, Damascus,18 and surely also Antioch.19 Here the question of possible factors that determined one’s belonging to a synagogue arises. If I see rightly, the current situation of the sources does not permit assured conclusions in either direction with respect to the question—­which is decisive for the line of inquiry pursued here—­of the extent to which the belonging to a synagogue was (co-­)determined by a specific religious character. To be sure, reference can be made to the mention of Essene synagogues in Philo, Prob. 81. But can this be generalized or applied to the Diaspora?20 If differences in theological orientation played a role, it would become more plausible to differentiate between the stance toward the (Pharisaically dominated) synagogue and belonging to Judaism, even though it would remain a distinctive feature that the theological awareness of difference of the Matthean or, more generally, of the Christ-­believing groups went hand in hand with a preference for ἐκκλησία as a group designation. These considerations lead at least to the conclusion that the talk of ‘their/your synagogues’ as a sole indicator is not sufficient to justify a location of the Matthean community outside of Judaism. It can be added to this that the highlighted distancing need not mean a complete detachment. Rather, the double reference to the fact that the disciples of Jesus must be prepared for flogging in ‘their/your synagogues’ (10.17: Καὶ ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς αὐτῶν μαστιγώσουσιν ὑμᾶς; 23.34: . . . καὶ ἐξ αὐτῶν μαστιγώσετε ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς ὑμῶν) makes it probable that community members continued to be present in the synagogue—­and they probably did so not merely as quiet listeners but with missionary intention.21 For otherwise the conflicts presupposed in 10.17; 23.34, which might end in a flogging, can scarcely be explained.22 18

Acts 9.2. Unfortunately, the source situation is not very good (especially with regard to inscriptions) for Syria, where most Matthean scholars place the emergence of the Gospel. See L. I. Levine 2001, 501. 20 For Alexandria it would be necessary to ask concretely about where the so-­called thoroughgoing allegorists whom Philo criticizes in Migr. 89–­93 actually met. Did they meet in their own assemblies? Was there an institutional background with respect to different profiles of synagogue communities for the fact that after the anti-­Jewish pogroms in Alexandria (38/39 CE) under Gaius Caligula, two delegations from Alexandrian Judaism (cf. CPJ 1.153.90–­92) appeared before Claudius (41–­54)? 21 It fits with this that the first attestation (10.17) occurs in the context of the mission discourse and there is talk again of ἀποστέλλειν in the second attestation (23.34). 22 Unless the occurrences of floggings in the synagogue are pushed into the past. To be sure, in view of the double mention of them, this would scarcely be anything but arbitrary. 19

6

Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

2. Temporal Horizon and Significance of the Mission to Israel The question of the temporal horizon and significance of the mission to Israel for the Matthean believers in Christ constitutes an important factor for answering the question of the meaning of the aforementioned development into institutional independence with regard to their belonging to Judaism. If the Matthean group, as Ulrich Luz, among others, has argued, no longer invests much hope in the mission to Israel,23 then this can easily be connected to the assumption that the degree of organizational independence that has been reached goes hand in hand with a turning away from Judaism. If, by contrast, it is assumed that the Matthean community is still intensively engaged in seeking to interest Jews for the ecclesia, then the option of a localization within Judaism becomes more plausible. The main points of the textual constellation may quickly be reviewed. In the mission discourse in Matt 10, the disciples—­in connection with the explicit prohibition against going on the way to the ‘gentiles’ or into a city of the Samaritans—­are sent exclusively to “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (10.5–­6). In the presentation of Jesus’ earthly activity, it corresponds to this that this activity is likewise programmatically concentrated on Israel (2.6; 15.24), that Matthew consistently imposes this program upon the entire narrative,24 and that this orientation even coalesces itself in titular form in the Matthean emphasis on the royal-­Davidic messiahship of Jesus. Furthermore, 10.23 evokes the expectation that the end of the mission to Israel will not come earlier than with the parousia of the Son of Man, i.e., with the final judgment. On the other hand, in his activity in Israel, Jesus encounters not only interest but also bitter opposition, which ultimately leads to his crucifixion. And at the end, the disciples are then sent to πάντα τὰ ἔθνη, so that the determination of the relationship between the mission that is concentrated on Israel in 10.5–­6 and the sending of the disciples to πάντα τὰ ἔθνη in 28.19 emerges as a central problem of interpretation for the Gospel of Matthew. How is the concentration on Israel, on the one hand, and the universalism, on the other hand, to be related to each other in the theological conception of the First Evangelist? A common solution views 28.19 as the answer to the—­according to the advocates of this position—­collective (or at least far-­reaching) rejection that Jesus (at the end) is said to have experienced in Israel.25 According 23

Luz 2005c, 631 (GV = 2002b, 451). On the three narratives—­taken from Mark and Q—­in which Jesus does act toward non-­Jews (8.5–­13, 28–­34; 15.21–­28), see Konradt 2014b, 55–­74 (GV = 2007, 59–­81). 25 See, e.g., Meier 1979, 180 (“The death of Jesus, the result of Israel’s total rejection of its Messiah, frees the church for its mission to all the nations”); and Luz 2007, 50 (GV = 2002a, 92): “the Gospel of Matthew tells how it happened that in the end the greatest portion of Israel rejects Jesus (cf. 28:11–­15). The risen Lord responds to this rejection by commanding the disciples to make disciples of ‘all nations’ (28:16–­20).” 24



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to this view, at the crucifixion the whole people join the bitter opposition that the leading authorities of the people bring against the activity of Jesus from the beginning onward (Matt 2.3–­6). In this context, a key role is assigned to the condemnation scene in 27.24–­25.26 By having πᾶς ὁ λαός cry out “his blood be on us and our children,” Israel as a whole is said to be liable for the death of Jesus. The conflict of Jesus with the authorities in Matt 21–­23 is interpreted as a final reckoning with Israel.27 The church is said to replace Israel as the people of God—­above all 21.43 serves as evidence for this thesis. Furthermore, depending on whether πάντα τὰ ἔθνη in 28.19 is interpreted exclusively or inclusively, the turning to the ‘gentiles’ takes the place of the mission to Israel, or it is postulated that Israel has lost its special status and is only still subsumed as one of the nations in 28.19. In the first case, the community would view the mission to Israel as a concluded phase28 and not seek to win over Jews anymore. In the second case, it would turn, in the universal mission, to Jews and ‘gentiles’ without distinction.29 In the latter case, making this concrete, it can be emphasized that the focus is henceforth on the mission to the gentiles, so that the difference from the first position is negligible. This type of interpretation, which contains differentiations within itself, has encountered increasing opposition in more recent scholarship. It is said that Matthew does not say a word about a collective guilt and rejection of Israel or about a replacement of Israel by the church.30 Especially within the course of the decidedly inner-­Jewish placement of the Gospel of Matthew in the work of Overman and Saldarini, the conflict narrated in the Matthean story of Jesus has been viewed as a reflection of the competition between the Matthean group and the Pharisees over the claim to leadership within the Judaism that was forming itself anew after 70 CE,31 in which 26

In recent literature, see, e.g., Paul 2005, 304–­5 (“key text for the Matthean story of conflict between Jesus and Israel” [94]). 27 See, by way of example, Luz 1989a, 244 (“21.1–­25.46 portrays Jesus’ great reckoning with unbelieving Israel in parables, controversy dialogues and through the great discourse of woes that ends with Jesus’ departure from the temple”); and Marguerat 1981, 347: “Mt 21–­23 se présente comme une vaste étiologie destinée à montrer pourquoi et comment Israël a été déposé par son Dieu” (original emphasis). 28 Thus, e.g., Strecker 1971, 33–­34; Hare 1967, 147–­48; Luz 1993, 315–­16 (original emphasis): “For the Matthean community the time of the mission to Israel is concluded; it turns itself in the place of Israel (an der Stelle Israels) to the Gentiles.” Notably, the English version of this essay differs at this point. See Luz 2005a, 249: “The time of exclusive mission to Israel is definitely over.” 29 See, e.g., Park 1995, 185: “There will be only one mission, that is, the universal mission to πάντα τὰ ἔθνη (28:19), which includes all the gentiles as well as the Jews, who are now simply part of the people to be converted into Christianity.” 30 On this, see, in detail, Konradt 2014b, 89–­264 (GV = 2007, 95–­284). 31 See Saldarini 1994, 44–­67, 107–­16 (“deviant Jews [in the technical, sociological sense] still within the community” [116]). Saldarini and Overman make recourse to the

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Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

the concern was primarily with a dispute over the proper understanding of the Torah.32 In this reading, this is the context in which we must view the sharp polemical attacks of the Gospel of Matthew, above all in Matt 23, with which the evangelist aims “to delegitimate rival Jewish leaders.”33 In this context, less attention has been given to the question of the theological conception that can explain the development from 10.5–­6 to 28.19 if the change of tendency is not to be triggered by the rejection of Jesus in Israel. Here, it is not sufficient to develop, as an alternative to the replacement model, the thesis of a complementary coordination of the two missions, as Axel von Dobbeler has proposed.34 In this view, the mission to Israel grounded in Matt 10, on the one hand, and the mission to the gentiles promulgated in Matt 28, on the other hand, must, with their different audiences, also be separated from each other according to their nature, for with regard to Israel the concern is with the reconstitution of the twelve tribe people,35 whereas 28.19–­20 is concerned with the conversion of gentiles. This thesis is not adequate because the complementarity of the two term ‘sect’ in this connection (see, e.g., Overman 1990, 143, 149; Saldarini 1994, 115: “a sect within first century Judaism”). For a critical engagement with this view, see Luomanen 2002, esp. 109–­13. Highly implausible is R. Hakola’s attempt (Hakola 2008) to explain the stereotypical negative presentation of the scribes and Pharisees without the assumption of a real underlying conflict on the basis of “social identity theory” as the result of a process of “self-­categorization” in which the stress on commonalities with group members reinforces the emphasis of differences from outsiders. Moreover, in Hakola’s interpretation, the presentation of the Pharisees as hypocrites serves to process their own cognitive dissonance “between the principle of emphasizing the keeping of the whole Law and the more liberal religious practice of the community” (138–­39) by externalizing this, i.e., “by making it a main characteristic of those who represent the most virulent defenders of the Law in Matthew’s gospel, namely the Pharisees” (139). Tellingly, Hakola does not produce evidence that all the individual characteristics of the Matthean presentation of the scribes and Pharisees can be explained in this way. It also cannot be produced, for the consistency with which the opponent is not only presented as hypocritical and incompetent but is also virtually ‘demonized’ as abysmally evil (see, above all, Matt 12.22–­45), the way in which it is staged on the narrative level that the Pharisees oppose the knowledge of Jesus that is germinating in the people (12.23–­24), and the indication that the disciples must reckon with flogging in the synagogues (10.17; 23.34) all point in a different direction. 32 See Saldarini 1994, 124–­64. Here, I can only point to the thesis of Runesson 2008, esp. 120–­30, according to which the Matthean Christ-­believers themselves come from the Pharisaic movement and according to which the Gospel of Matthew must correspondingly be read in the context of or as a result of an inner-­Pharisaic conflict. In my view, this thesis suffers from the fact that it does not adequately take account of the conflict over the interpretation of the Torah between the Matthean Jesus and the Pharisees, in which clearly different understandings of the Torah are recognizable. 33 Saldarini 1992a, 661. See also Saldarini 1991, 44: “Matthew attacks the Jewish leaders unceasingly in an attempt to delegitimize their authority and teaching and to win the people over to his interpretation of Judaism.” Cf., further, Overman 1990, 141–­49. 34 A. von Dobbeler 2000. 35 A. von Dobbeler 2000, 28.



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missions does not yet explain the actual problem,36 namely, the different points at which they begin: Why is Jesus’ earthly activity concentrated on Israel, while the nations are first incorporated into the gift of salvation in 28.16–­20? The model that I proposed as a solution in my monograph Israel, Church, and the Gentiles in the Gospel of Matthew can be sketched only briefly here.37 In my view, 28.19 is not an answer to the alleged collective rejection of Jesus in Israel, and 28.19 by no means has the rejection of the initial addressees of the activity as its flip side. Rather, the sequence of the two mission commands represents an integral aspect of the narrative conception in which Matthew develops his Christology. There is no “rupture” here in the Matthean story of Jesus.38 Rather, the juxtaposition of 10.5–­6 and 28.19 is integrated into the way in which the identity and significance of Jesus are successively unveiled. The double unfolding of the messiahship of Jesus as Son of David and Son of God, which Matthew has interwoven with the topic of Jesus’ turning to Israel and the incorporation of the gentiles, leads to the heart of his christological conception.39 This interweaving forms the central element of the Matthean narrative conception. Here, we can speak of a two-­stage concept. With the coming of the Davidic messiah, who turns to his people who are languishing because of the failure of the authorities, the promises of salvation made to Israel come to fulfillment. By contrast, the promise of blessing for all nations received by Abraham is incorporated into the event of fulfillment only through the passion of the Son of God.40 The programmatic exclusion of the gentiles from the messianic activity of the earthly Jesus in favor of the mission to the lost sheep of the house of Israel is the flipside of the idea that Jesus’ death and resurrection are the soteriological basic datum for the salvation that applies to all nations. To summarize, the traditional interpretation of the transition from 10.5–­6 to 28.19 has received competition from various sides in recent scholarship. In which direction scholarship will move in the next phase remains to be seen. If we inquire into the reasons for the different reconstructions of the theological conceptions, then a whole bundle of aspects can be identified. This is the case because the analysis of a theological conception that underlies a narrative text is based not only on 36

For objections to the model of A. von Dobbeler, see Konradt 2014b, 314–­15 (GV = 2007, 338). 37 See Konradt 2014b (GV = 2007). On this, cf. also Konradt 2016, 115–­45. 38 Contrast Luz 2007, 50 (GV = 2002a, 91: “Bruch”). 39 Cf. now Konradt 2020a, 113–­22. 40 For the affinity of this two-­stage concept to the Jewish Christian tradition taken up in Rom 1.3–­4, see Konradt 2016, 143–­44.

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Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

1) numerous exegetical individual decisions, but also on 2) which textual passages are assigned a conceptual leading function, 3) which possible intertextual references are regarded as relevant and in which way, 4) how possible text-­internal connections are evaluated or weighted, and 5) how the gaps of the text are filled. 6) Moreover, in the construction of textual meaning, overarching perspectives on the development and characteristics of emerging Christianity (and ancient Judaism) enter in. 7) Finally, reference must be made to the hermeneutical problem of the interpreter’s own pre-­understanding and the unconscious, subliminal influence of models of thought from other (textual) contexts in the reconstruction.

I will illustrate the first four points and the last point with the help of examples. For the fifth point, the question of circumcision suggests itself as example par excellence; I will discuss it separately later. Point (6) can also be illustrated in that context. Ad (1): The interpretation of Matt 27.25 and especially the interpretation of πᾶς ὁ λαός in Matt 27.25 is of central relevance for the collective guilt thesis. The different interpretations can be tied to the different ends of the spectrum of meaning of λαός:41 Does Matthew emphatically assign responsibility for the death of Jesus to the whole people of God here?42 Or is λαός merely an alternative term (selected for stylistic reasons) to the preceding ὄχλος here?43 A mediating position is also possible—­for example, the position that specifies the (Jerusalem!?) crowd gathered before Pilate as belonging to the people of God.44 The consultation of the other uses of λαός in the Gospel of Matthew is not sufficient for a clear decision. While λαός probably designates the people of God as a terminus technicus in 1.21; 2.6; 4.16; and probably also 4.23, this does not hold true for the other attestations in the passion story in 26.5 and 27.64. Put differently, the decision depends on the overall understanding of the Matthean story of Jesus. 41 On this, cf. Frankemölle 2000 (GV = 1992); Konradt 2014b, 155–­59 (GV = 2007, 169–­72). 42 Thus, e.g., Meier 1979, 199–­200; Senior 1982, 258–­59; Mora 1986, 33–­39; Verseput 1986, 44; W. Kraus 1997, 416–­17; Cousland 2002, 83. 43 Thus, e.g., Davies/Allison 1997, 592; Lovsky 1987, 350–­51; A. J. Levine 1988, 266ff.; Saldarini 1994, 32–­33; Gielen 1998, 383–­86. 44 On this cf. the reflections in Konradt 2014b, 156–­64 (GV = 2007, 170–­78); and Konradt 2016, 230–­31.



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Ad (2): An important aspect for the issue pursued here is the analysis of the constellation of characters in the Matthean story. Matthew repeatedly differentiates between the authorities and the crowds. This is especially conspicuous in the Beelzebul pericope—­which is doubled by Matthew in Matt 9.33–­34; 12.23–­24—­where the crowds are credited with a positive reaction, whereas the accusation of being in league with Beelzebul is assigned to the authorities. This conspicuous feature is underlined even further by the fact that Matthew gives voice to the crowds—­which emerge as a distinct entity in the story in Matthew to a much greater extent than in Mark45—­and has an advance in knowledge take place between the statements.46 While they recognize the (salvation-­)historical singularity of the activity of Jesus in 9.33, they begin to speak of this in messianic terms in 12.23—­though admittedly with a questioning undertone, which then gives way, in a third stage, to the formal acclamation of Jesus as Son of David in 21.9 (in Matthew it is conspicuously the crowds to whom this acclamation is ascribed!). What weight should be assigned to this differentiation in the overall context of the Matthean story? Is it overridden by 27.25 (but what is its function in that case?)? Or should a leading conceptual function be assigned not to 27.25 (on the basis of the interpretation of λαός as people of God) but rather to this differentiation, and is it, conversely, an argument for interpretating the crowd gathered before Pilate as the people of Jerusalem? For the latter view, reference can be made to the way that Matthew steers the reader in the preceding course of the narrative. From 2.3 onward Jerusalem is positioned on the side of Jesus’ opponents. The crowd that acclaims Jesus as Son of David is pointedly contrasted with Jerusalem in 21.9–­11, so that Jerusalem can scarcely be understood as a representative of Israel in Matthew. Jesus is introduced to Jerusalem as a prophet from Nazareth, with a subtle cross-­reference being made to 23.37, where Jerusalem appears as the city that murders prophets. And in the call for blood in 27.25, the children are added because the punishment for the crucifixion took place only a generation later with the destruction of Jerusalem. From a text-­pragmatic perspective, a situational background can be imaged for both options (though in my view more convincingly for the second option than for the first). In the case of the second option, the positive traits in the presentation of the crowds can be assigned to the further motivation of the missionary activity in Israel. At the same time, the destroyed Jerusalem served in this context as a powerful documentation of how it ends if someone, like Jerusalem, entrusts themselves to the false authorities (see the motif of the people being persuaded by the

45 46

On this, see the monograph of Cousland 2002. Cf. also now Konradt 2020c. On this, cf. Konradt 2014b, 94–­100 (GV = 2007, 101–­7).

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Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

chief priests and elders in 27.20).47 If, by contrast, 27.25 is read in such a way that the responsibility and guilt for the death of Jesus is ascribed to the people of God as a whole and a leading conceptual function is assigned to this peak of the story of conflict, then it would be possible to assign the preceding differentiation between authorities and crowds a function within the framework of the community’s strategy for processing the failed attempt to win over a majority or even only a significant portion of the people: Jesus initially met with much affirmation, in which the community can find itself confirmed in its decision; only the influence of the thoroughly evil (cf. 12.34) authorities in the dark hour of the passion of Jesus is to blame for the fact that Jesus’ activity ultimately did not attract (even) larger circles.

As indicated, I do not regard these options as equally plausible. Here, however, my initial concern is only with showing how it is possible to develop different interpretations. At the same time, I intend to show that it is scarcely possible to exclude one of the two interpretations categorically. Rather, it is a matter of degrees of plausibility and judgments of probability. Ad (3): The third aspect, the relevance of possible intertextual references, may be illustrated with the help of another text that is of central relevance in the framework of the thesis of the rejection of Israel—­the parable of the wicked tenants in Matt 21.33–­46. Matt 21.33 clearly alludes to Isa 5.2.48 In the song of the vineyard in Isa 5.1–­7, the vineyard stands for Israel (v. 7). Moreover, in the Old Testament and in early Jewish literature, ‘vineyard’ is also attested elsewhere as a metaphor for Israel.49 If one starts from this reading signal, then the vineyard in Matt 21.33–­46 must be read as a cipher for Israel. But then the concern in the parable cannot be—­as the traditional interpretation postulates that it is—­with the replacement of Israel through a different ἔθνος (21.43). Rather, the parable then deals with the fact that the vineyard (= Israel) receives new tenants (= new leaders). In that case, the theme is not the replacement of Israel as people of God but the task of the followers of Jesus in Israel.50 In order to secure this interpretation, it must be able to endure the intratextual cross-­check, i.e., it must be possible to show that the talk of the vineyard in 20.1–­15 and 21.28–­32 does not suggest alternative interpretive options. In my view, 47

On this, cf. Konradt 2016, 232–­33. The change to the Markan Vorlage through the relocation of ἐφύτευσεν before ἀμπελῶνα, i.e., the object that belongs to it, and of φραγμόν before περιέθηκεν, i.e., the verb that belongs to it, and through the insertion of ἐν αὐτῷ between ὠρυξεν and ληνόν in Matt 21.33 should probably be read as intentional redactional clarifications of the reference to the Isaiah text (cf. Weren 1998, 19 et al.). 49 Isa 3.14; 27.2–­6; Jer 12.10; LAB 28.4 (?); 30.4; 3 Bar 1.2 [Greek version]; cf. also Herm. Sim. V 2.2; 5.2–­3; 6.2. 50 In my view, there are also other indications that support this interpretation. For the interpretation of Matt 21.33–­46, see Konradt 2014b, 172–­93 (GV = 2007, 187–­209). 48



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these texts do not exclude a reference of the vineyard metaphor to Israel. However, it is also possible to understand the vineyard metaphor in these texts in a semantically more open way in the sense of engagement with the “ ‘business’ or concerns of God.”51 In other words, the allusion to Isa 5 in Matt 21.33 is only one aspect of interpretation, so that a decision about which weight is to be given to this intertextual connection can be sought only in the interplay with other interpretive questions. Ad (4): The intertextual references are reinforced by the evaluation of intratextual cross connections. In Matt 13.12 it is not explicitly explained what will still be given to those who have and what will be taken from those who do not have. From the fact that δοθήσεται and ἀρθήσεται are also juxtaposed in 21.43, Ulrich Luz infers for the negative part of 13.12 that the concern is with the fact that “Israel will lose its election.”52 In recent scholarship, 21.43 has often been read differently (see above); here, however, the concern is solely with the question of the construction of the intratextual network. Is the aforementioned contact in wording enough to be able to justify an interpretation of 13.12 from 21.43? Against this option, the differences between the texts can be pointed out. The verbs occur in 21.43 in the opposite sequence. Above all, however, in 21.43 it is not the one who already has who is given something; rather, God’s kingdom is taken away from one and given to the other. Thus, we must highlight a not insignificant syntactical and material difference. Matt 25.29 has a much closer relationship to 13.12 than 21.43 does. Moreover, the juxtaposition of δοθήσεται and ἀρθήσεται also occurs elsewhere.53 On the basis of the immediate context of 13.12, it is possible to think—­especially in light of the connection indicated through γάρ—­that the concern is with knowledge or ignorance of the kingdom of heaven. “Knowledge is rewarded with knowledge, ignorance with ignorance.”54 Conversely, however, an 51

Snodgrass 1983, 74. Luz 2001, 246 (GV = 1990, 313). 53 Cf. Gk. LAE 13.5: Ὅτι ἀρθήσεται ἀπ’ αὐτῶν ἡ καρδία ἡ πονηρά, καὶ δοθήσεται αὐτοῖς καρδία συνετιζομένη τὸ ἀγαθόν. 54 Davies/Allison 1991, 391. Those who ‘have’ are the disciples, and what they have is precisely that which is given to them according to v. 11, namely, the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, i.e., they are able to understand Jesus’ activity as a messianic event and to recognize the coming of the kingdom of God therein (cf. 12.28). They are taught further through the interpretation of the parable of the sower about the proclamation of the kingdom of heaven and in the parables that follow in 13.24–­33 about the kingdom of heaven itself and thus grow in their knowledge of the μυστήρια τῆς βασιλείας τῶν οὐρανῶν (13.11). According to 13.35 Jesus makes what is hidden known through the parables, and these hidden things also belong together to the μυστήρια of 13.11. By contrast, the crowds lack the knowledge that in Jesus’ activity the kingdom of heaven becomes present, which is also the basic presupposition for understanding the parable speech, so that their deficiency becomes visible through their inability to understand the parables of the kingdom of heaven in their meaning and current relevance. 52

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Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

explanation of the gap of 13.12 from the immediate context does not rule out the possibility that a rereading comes to pass through 21.43 and that the spectrum of meaning of 13.12 is meant to be expanded for the reader in the light of 21.43. To put the matter pointedly, whoever denies the latter will emphasize the differences between the verses; whoever affirms the latter will stress the commonalities. It is probably reasonable to assume that in the weighting of points of contact and differences, the overall perspective that one has already developed on the Gospel of Matthew up to that point is not without influence. Ad (7): Structures of plausibility, which are determined by the respective Zeitgeist and which co-­steer the generation of the meaning of a text, can usually be recognized more easily in retrospect than for our own time. Nevertheless, the thesis may be ventured that the changes in the interpretation of Matthew in the last decades are connected in a significant way to a clearly altered sensibility toward Judaism on the Christian side.55 However, this pointer can also be neutralized through the observation that, conversely, some branches of the traditional interpretation are co-­shaped by ways of thinking that have been established for centuries in the ‘Christian’ churches and that denigrate Judaism. Be that as it may, for an adequate understanding of the Gospel of Matthew, which stands in a very different position with regard to the Jewish–­Christian process of separation than its present-­day reader, it appears important to me to raise the question of the extent to which the juxtaposition of church and Israel that is familiar from today’s standpoint guides the reading as a filter for reception with the result that the differentiation between the disciples of Jesus/the ecclesia and (other) Jewish groups in the Matthean story of Jesus is read in almost as a matter of course and yet perhaps prematurely in the sense of the juxtaposition of Christianity and Judaism. Thus, e.g., W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison have postulated a connection between the widespread generalizing tendency in scholarship and the ecclesial perspective of the exegetes: “Scholars who tend to read the gospel through later ecclesiastical lenses, often approach Matthew with subtle biases. Only this explains why, whenever Jewish figures oppose Jesus, it is regularly assumed that their opposition foreshadows Israel’s complete rejection of her messiah and portends God’s rejection of Israel.”56 55

This appears almost as a program for interpretation for Peter Fiedler. See his “reflections on hermeneutics” in P. Fiedler 2004, 61–­62. See further, e.g., the clear tendency in the interpretation of Feneberg 2009. 56 Davies/Allison 1988, 23. See also p. 24: “Whenever Gentiles appear in Matthew in a positive light, commentators always see this as foreshadowing the great commission and the future influx of Gentiles; yet the significance of the ethnic identity of Jews such as Joseph, Mary, and Peter is passed over in silence.”



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To be sure, every exegete wears their own reading glasses. I nevertheless wish to insist that this need not be regarded as a necessity out of which we should make a virtue. Instead, I wish to maintain that the exegetical task consists centrally in weakening through the exegetical work on the text—­with awareness of the significance of prejudgments in the process of understanding—­the power of the prejudgment as far as possible in favor of the text.57 This is fundamentally a question of the leisure and discipline for slow reading and the readiness for constant self-­reflection with respect to where and how gaps of the text were filled in the process of interpretation or will need to be filled. Rereading and critical scrutiny of one’s own results are especially required when an interpretation is too similar to one’s own theological favorite ideas.

The examples presented above provide only a selection from the questions that must be discussed in the framework of an analysis of the theological conception of the First Evangelist with regard to the significance of the mission to Israel. The goal was only to illustrate that the development of a hypothesis about the theological conception is dependent on numerous exegetical decisions that to some extent mutually influence one another. More specifically, every attempt to obtain a theological conception from a narrative text such as the Gospel of Matthew is based on the fact that textual phenomena—­which are sometimes polyvalent when taken on their own—­are interpreted, adjusted to one another, weighted, and constructively put together like a mosaic. Not only does the mosaic emerge from the interpretation of individual texts, but the (provisional) conception of the overall mosaic also simultaneously influences the exegetical decisions in the analysis of the individual texts. Within the framework of a hermeneutically considered exegesis, such constructive achievements must also be critically interrogated regarding the extent to which in the perception or conceptual linking and in the thinking together of individual textual aspects (which fills in gaps in the text), familiar models from other contexts (unconsciously) flow in and textual indications are prematurely interpreted in the sense of known conceptions. In the question of whether the community still carries out a mission to Israel, the concern is with an important indicator of how the community relates to Judaism. In addition to this aspect, we will now turn to the question of the mission to the gentiles and its beginning in the Matthean community, which is closely associated with the question of the composition of 57 My concern here is not to pursue the phantom of an objective reading. The fact that “interpretation is never a presuppositionless grasping of something previously given” (Heidegger 2010, 146; GV = 1986, 150) is probably generally accepted today as a hermeneutical principle. At the same time, in the framework of historical-­critical exegesis the goal remains to uncover possible subjectivisms and potential distortions conditioned by the distance from the historical context of the text that is to be exegeted as far as this is possible.

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the community. Here, it will become clear not only that it is a complex task to draw out the theological conception of an author from a narrative text, as we have just sketched, but also that it is notoriously difficult to draw conclusions from a narrative text about the underlying community situation. 3. The Composition of the Community or the Question of the Mission to the Gentiles While there is at least a far-­reaching consensus in Matthean scholarship that the evangelist was a Jew by birth58 and that the Matthean group had its beginnings in Judaism, there is less clarity about the composition of the group at the time of the composition of the Gospel. We have already noted at the outset that the (purely) Jewish character of the Matthean group has supporters in recent scholarship also for the time of the composition of the Gospel. The alternative view is that the character of the Matthean group had already changed through the addition of Christ-­believers from the gentiles at the time of the composition of the Gospel. If this variant is followed, then it is also necessary to ask how large this gentile Christian portion already was. Should one say that the community was largely Jewish Christian or at least that the clear majority of its members were?59 Or should one speak of a mixed community?60 Here, the transitions must be defined more fluidly than clearly. Depending on the decision that is reached here, the relationship of the Matthean community to Judaism must be nuanced differently in a social perspective. The following principle is probably applicable: the higher one estimates the proportion of the gentile Christians, the lower the plausibility is that the community should be viewed simply as a (deviant) portion of Judaism.61 Put differently, this raises the question of whether the evangelist wishes to initiate a new practice with the universal mission commandment in 28.18–­20 or whether the community has already carried out a mission to the gentiles (for a long time?). The radical view—­represented above all by David Sim—­that the mission to the gentiles was theoretically accepted 58

Tuckett 2011, 108–­16 is, however, critical of this view. In critical engagement with Foster 2003, Tucket refers especially to the quotation of Deut 6.5 in Matt 22.37 as evidence for a non-­Jewish origin of Matthew. 59 Thus, e.g., Harrington 1991, 2 (“a largely Jewish-­ Christian community”); Davies/Allison 1997, 695, 702 (see, however, below); Senior 1998, 21 (“but a growing number of Gentile converts were beginning to swell its membership”); Przybylski 1986, 192. 60 Thus, e.g, Davies/Allison 1991, 192 (“a mixed community”); Wong 1992, esp. 187–­95; Eckstein 1997, 387–­90; Weren 2005, 60. 61 Cf., by way of example, the thesis of Foster 2004, 79, “that the attitude towards Gentile Mission more naturally reflects a community that had stepped outside the bounds of Judaism.”



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by the Matthean community as a (eschatological) program but was not practiced62 has thus far not been able to establish itself. It already founders on the fact that it cannot account for the weight of 28.16–­20 as the goal of the entire narrative. And while the reference to the fact that the Gospel of Matthew contains some derogatory statements about the ἐθνικοί (Matt 5.47; 6.7; 18.1763) or the ἔθνη (6.32)64 may clarify the Jewish perspective of Matthew, it cannot be regarded as an indication for a rejection of the mission to the gentiles. Paul can also speak pejoratively of the ‘gentiles,’ as 1 Thess 4.5 attests with exemplary clarity.65 The fact that Matthew has no illusions about the fact that the disciples will encounter hostility in the pagan world (cf. 24.9: Καὶ ἔσεσθε μισούμενοι ὑπὸ πάντων τῶν ἐθνῶν διὰ τὸ ὄνομά μου) also cannot be put forth as an argument here; persecution is likewise a signature of the mission to Israel.66 An answer to the question of the point in time when the community turned to the mission to the gentiles cannot be inferred from the Gospel of Matthew with a sufficient degree of certainty. Still, it is clear that the task of interrelating the specific turning to Israel with the universality of salvation represents a central concern of the Matthean retelling of the story of Jesus, from 1.1 onward.67 This finding can scarcely be interpreted to mean anything else but that this question had great contemporary significance for the evangelist and his addressees. Matthew makes huge efforts to justify his perspective with respect to the emphasis on the fulfillment of the salvific promises for Israel in the messianic activity of Jesus and also with regard to the justification of the mission to the gentiles and especially their anchoring in the scriptures of Israel.68 Even if, however, we can infer from the later—­and I think such an inference is plausible—­that the mission to the gentiles is not uncontested 62

See Sim 1998b, 242–­45 (cf. Sim 1995, 41–­44); Houlden 1994, 123. Ἐθνικός is always used in a pejorative way by Matthew. 64 Sim 1998b, 226–­31. 65 Here, it may additionally be noted that tax collectors also appear as negative examples or outsiders in Matt 5.46; 18.17, without this excluding for the evangelist the view that Jesus’ turning is applicable to them (9.9–­13; 11.19; 21.31–­32). 66 Still, this pointer does make clear that the opposition to the messengers of Jesus in Israel is no reason for discontinuing missionary activities. Otherwise, the same must also apply to the mission to the gentiles. On this, see Konradt 2014b, 9 (GV = 2007, 9–­10). 67 Frankemölle 1984, 318 has ennobled this verse with the remark that it contains “in nuce the whole Gospel of Matthew.” This sees something correct insofar as with the double predication of Jesus as Son of David and Son of Abraham the two soteriological horizons of the Matthean story of Jesus—­namely, the turning to Israel and the expansion of salvation to the gentile world—­are introduced. 68 On this, see Konradt 2014b, esp. 17–­87, 265–­325 (GV = 2007, esp. 17–­94, 285–­348). For a sketch, see Ad (4) in section 4 below (GV = Konradt 2016, 34–­36). 63

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in the Matthean circle,69 this is not yet a secure basis for making statements about the composition of the community. For this aspect could mean that the evangelist attempts to establish the mission to the gentiles against resentment toward it, i.e., makes himself a spokesman for a new practice against opposition from (conservative) parts of the community70—­in this case we would have to assume a Jewish Christian community. It could, however, also mean that he defends an existing practice against new resentments that arose in a mixed community (for example through the influx of Jewish Christians who have fled from Palestine). As another option, the possibility could be considered that the Matthean community saw itself exposed to Pharisaic criticism due to the reception of non-­Jews as full members, which (increasingly) affected members of the community.71 In other words, the textual findings can allow for different historical imaginings. Here, it becomes clear by way of example that inferences from narrative texts to the historical situation of the group of tradents must be drawn, first, with the greatest caution and, second, can scarcely be drawn in a conclusive way.72 It could be considered whether the mission commandment in 28.19–­20 contains an indication that Matthew wishes to initiate a new practice. For if the sequence of the participles βαπτίζοντες and διδάσκοντες, with which the imperative μαθητεύσατε πάντα τὰ ἔθνη is elucidated,

69

For the suggestion that Matthew saw himself confronted with reservations about the integration of non-­Jews from conservative community members, see, e.g., Slee 2003, 134; Foster 2004, 20; Konradt 2014b, 365–­66 (GV = 2007, 389–­90); Balabanski 2008, 170–­71. Conversely, Lohmeyer 1995, 385–­86 has postulated that the evangelist, in light of a neglect of the mission to Israel, seeks to inculcate its importance anew. See in this vein also Davies/Allison 1991, 192; Frankemölle 1997, 86 (cf. also Frankemölle 1996a, 124). 70 This is the position of S. Brown 1980, 217–­21, and of Luz in the first version of volume 1 of his commentary, where he postulates that the community “failed with its mission to Israel, experienced the divine judgment of the destruction of Jerusalem, and is now called by the evangelist to a new start” (Luz 1985, 67 [cf. Luz 1989b, 84–­85]; cf. also Harrington 1991, 416; and Slee 2003, 126, 131, 144). Luz revised his view in the course of his commentary, interpreting 24.9–­14 as a reference to the mission to the gentiles that was already underway (see Luz 2005c, 631; GV = Luz 2002b, 451). Saldarini 1994, 74, deduces from Matt 15.21–­28 that “the Matthean group is still wrestling with the problem of gentile membership; it justifies it by their great faith but maintains the boundaries and practices of Judaism, interpreted in a different way (15:1–­20; 5:17–­19).” However, Saldarini does not pay sufficient attention to the position of Matt 15.21–­28 within the Matthean story of Jesus. With 28.19–­20 a new situation is given. 71 Cf. the similar consideration in Senior 1999, 19: “Evidence in Matthew’s Gospel may suggest that some in Matthew’s community resisted that idea of a Gentile mission, perhaps in part under the pressure of Jewish attacks on the validity of the Jewish character of Matthew’s community.” 72 Hagner 1996, 27, has formulated this fundamental problem even more sharply: “The reconstruction of the life-­situation of an evangelist is necessarily a speculative enterprise. It is a kind of educated guesswork.”



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is significant, it is conspicuous. Should one first baptize and then let the instruction in the commandments of Jesus follow? It seems to me that such a model is indeed practicable in the case of the incorporation of Jews into the Christ-­believing community, for Jews must not be instructed about the foundations (cf. Heb 6.1–­2) but need only to be instructed in Jesus’ specific interpretation of the commandments; this, however, can happen after baptism. In the case of non-­Jews, the situation is, however, different. The Didache, which probably comes from the same milieu as the Gospel of Matthew,73 nourishes this suspicion, for according to 7.1, the instruction—­the preceding two-­way teaching in Did. 1–­6 is what is in view—­must precede baptism. It can therefore be asked whether 28.19–­20 reflects the experience of the mission among Jews, which would suggest, by implication, that the community has little or no experiences with the form of mission to the gentiles envisaged by Matthew in 28.18–­20. This consideration, however, is vague at best since the findings can also be interpreted otherwise. In analogy to 4.18–­22 + 5.1–­7.27, the call to discipleship precedes the instruction.74

The importance of the question of when the Matthean community began to carry out a mission to the gentiles would, of course, be undermined if the admission of persons from the nations into it were to stand under the condition of conversion to Judaism. With this I come to the next point. 4. The Question of Circumcision The majority of Matthean scholars assume—­sometimes taking it almost unquestioningly for granted—­that Matt 28.19 is silent about circumcision because baptism has replaced circumcision as the ritual of initiation.75 In recent scholarship, however, the number of voices that interpret the gap of 28.19 in precisely the opposite way has increased. According to this view, Matthew need not thematize circumcision here because it constitutes an assumed presupposition for the admission of Christ-­believers from the nations into the Matthean ecclesia. This position has been put forward with great resoluteness by David Sim,76 who, among other things, appeals to 5.18 in support of his thesis: until the end of the world, not one iota of the Law will pass away; thus, the commandment of circumcision is 73

On this, see Van de Sandt 2005; Van de Sandt/Zangenberg 2008. On this analogy, cf. Frankemölle 1997, 545, who also interprets this in the framework of a theology of grace: “As the call into the discipleship of ‘Jesus’ is to be interpreted as a pure offer of grace, so it appears consistent to interpret the offering of salvation through baptism likewise as ‘pure grace,’ as gift of God.” 75 Cf. for many Meier 1976, 28. 76 Sim 1998b, 251–­54 (cf. Sim 1996, 184–­94 and elsewhere). See further Mohrlang 1984, 44–­45; A.-­J. Levine 1988, 181–­85; White 1991, 241–­42n100; Slee 2003, 141–­44; Runesson 2011, 399, with n78; Runesson 2016, 31–­36. See also Saldarini 1994, 157; and W. Kraus 2011, 208–­11. 74

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also in force. If this new interpretation were to be followed, the Jewish character of the group would not be in question; gentile Christians would be proselytes in Matthew. In that case, within Christianity the Matthean community would be a near relative of Paul’s opponents in Galatia. They would be not only a Torah-­observant Jewish group but a conservative Torah-­observant Jewish group. While this view has thus far not been able to establish itself as a majority position, this approach, since it has far-­ reaching significance for the contextualization of the Gospel of Matthew, requires an in-­depth discussion in Matthean scholarship. I must restrict myself here to an overview. Because the Gospel of Matthew contains no explicit statement on the question of circumcision, a decision can be made plausible only by way of a discussion of aspects that are adjacent or connected to the question of circumcision. Factors that must be taken into account include (1) the early Jewish context, (2) the embedding of the Gospel of Matthew in the early Christian spectrum, (3) the Matthean understanding of the Law, and (4) the position of the gentiles in the theological conception of the First Evangelist. Ad (1): Attitudes toward the question of circumcision were by no means uniform in ancient Judaism.77 This can scarcely be surprising already due to the fact that the Hellenistic culture adopted a negative stance toward circumcision. The acculturation pressure that stemmed from this was handled in different ways within early Judaism. Here, it must be stressed that this lack of uniformity—­despite the consequences of the failure of the Hellenistic reform in Jerusalem in the first third of the second century BCE, in the wake of which the renunciation of circumcision could be regarded as nota apostatica—­also applies to the time after 165/164 BCE, for there are also attestations in this time that some circles neglected circumcision.78 77

For a comprehensive sifting of the texts, see Blaschke 1998. Even after the failure of the Hellenistic reform (as a reflection of the Hellenistic reform, cf. Jub 15.33–­34), there was a neglect of circumcision (of children) extending to epispasm, at least among some (Hellenized) Jews, as can already be postulated on the basis of the taking up of the epispasm motif in T. Mos. 8.3. Paul also alludes to epispasm in 1 Cor 7.18. With the so-­called consistent allegorists, Philo attests a group that rejected (physical) circumcision (Migr. 89–­93). In 2 Bar. 66.5, killing uncircumcised compatriots out of zeal for the Law is presented as part of the reform of Josiah. Since this has no basis in the Old Testament presentations (2 Kgs 23.4–­25; 2 Chr 34.1–­7, 33; 35.1–­19), one will scarcely go astray in assuming that the enforcement of circumcision is the result of a connection to the time of the writer. Here, the connection between zeal for the Law and circumcision must, with regard to the Jews who are being fought, by no means mean that they have fundamentally detached themselves from the Torah; it is sufficient to assume that they did not share the understanding of the Torah presupposed by 2 Baruch. If the interpretation of Schäfer 1981, 46–­50, is followed, it must also be assumed for the run-­up to the Bar Kokhba revolt that assimilated Jews had their foreskin restored. Moreover, Martial (Epigrammata 7.82) 78



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To be sure, even more important than the attitude toward the significance of circumcision as a Jewish identity marker is the fact that there were different attitudes on the necessity of circumcision for non-­Jews, as shown, for example, by the conversion of Izates of Adiabene portrayed in Josephus, Ant. 20.17–­48. Two positions are set over against each other here. While the Galilean Eleazar, presumably a Pharisee, regards Izates’ status of Godfearer as unacceptable with reference to the circumcision commandment in Gen 17 (Ant. 20.43–­45), Josephus places in the mouth of the merchant Ananias, who had originally inspired Izates for Judaism, the view that it is possible “to worship God also without circumcision” (Ant. 20.41). Ananias thus advocates a position—­as demonstrated by the existence of Godfearers in diaspora synagogues—­that apparently did not represent an exception.79 Even if the question of whether there were uncircumcised proselytes in ancient Judaism at the turn of the century—­which appears to be within the realm of possibility on the basis of (an isolated reading of) Philo, QE 2.2 (on Exod 22.21)80—­should probably be answered in the negative,81 it must be noted that with the participation of non-­Jewish sympathizers in synagogue life and their (partial) integration therein, the ground was prepared, upon which the idea of a circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles could arise and flourish in the Christ-­believing movement. Ad (2): With the question of the embedding of the Gospel of Matthew in the early Christian spectrum, we enter the minefield of the reconstruction of the early Christian history of theology. At the same time, we are faced with the task of localizing the Matthean community. With regard to the latter, Galilee has increasingly been brought into play in recent scholarship.82 portrays with his distinctive mockery how a Jew sought to cover his circumcision with a fibula in the public space of the baths and palestra. 79 Put the other way around, the phenomenon of Godfearers points to the fact that Ananias’ position was not only a makeshift solution made out of political considerations but possessed a more comprehensive social background. 80 Here Philo defines the proselyte as someone “who circumcises not his uncircumcision but his desires.” And Philo asks further what the “disposition of the proselyte” is “if not the alienation from the belief in many gods and the familiarity with the worship of the one God.” 81 Cf. Nolland 1981, 173–­79; W. Kraus 1996, 102–­3. A different position is taken, however, by McEleney 1974, 328–­33. On the question, see also Collins 1985, 173–­74. 82 See Overman 1990, 158–­59 (see also Overman 1996, 17–­19); Saldarini 1992b, 26–­27; Runesson 2011, 381–­82. Gale 2005, 57–­63 thinks specifically of Sepphoris. Cf., further, Harrington 1991, 10; Segal 1991, 25–­29; and Weren 2005, 60: “Matthew’s community consisted of a large number of . . . small home churches spread over towns and villages in the Upper Galilee, the Golan, and the Southern part of Syria.” W. Kraus 2011, 234–­39 also regards Galilee as an option that is worth considering. In favor of Galilee, emphasis can be placed on the fact that the Pharisees played a significant role in the synagogal environment of the evangelist. For conflicts with Pharisees at the time of writing would fit well with Galilee, whereas documentation for Pharisees in the diaspora are lacking thus far, provided that it is correct that Paul was educated in Jerusalem (Acts 22.3;

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However, the localization of the Gospel of Matthew in Syria continues to be the majority position.83 Here, Antioch is the most prominent option,84 though—­with Ulrich Luz—­it is only one option.85 And perhaps we should rather think of southern Syria, i.e., of a city like Damascus.86 However, even in this case—­insofar as we can assume that Antioch as one of the centers of emerging Christianity had a significant radiating power, at least into the neighboring Syrian cities or regions—­a discussion of the theological milieu in Antioch could be helpful, at least as an attempt at historical approximation, even though it cannot be assumed without further ado that there were no internal differentiations in this sphere. Another approach to the placement of the Gospel in terms of the history of theology can be seen in the fact that the Matthean emphasis on the central role of Peter in the circle of disciples and especially Matt 16.18–­19 could be evidence for the high esteem for Peter in Matthean Christianity. This fits well with the location of the Gospel of Matthew in Antioch or in the Syrian region influenced by Antioch. David Sim has attempted to develop from these two aspects an argument that the Matthean gentile Christians were circumcised.87 The basis for this view is an uncommon interpretation of the so-­called incident at Antioch (Gal 2.11–­14) and its consequences. According to this interpretation, the 26.4–­5). “However, the explanatory force of this datum is questionable, in view of the general lack of sources; in any case, it cannot provide compelling evidence that (especially after 70 CE) in a Syria that shared a border with the ‘land of Israel’ (Matt 2:20–­21) there were no Pharisees. And even if Paul grew up in Jerusalem, his presence in Damascus proves that a Pharisee intended to work in Damascus. The most that can be conceded here is that the probability of the dominant influence of the Pharisees in the synagogal environment of the Matthean churches decreases with increasing distance from Galilee” (Konradt 2020b, 23; GV = 2015, 23). For a critical evaluation of the Galilee hypothesis, see Sim 2016. 83 A whole series of indices support the area of Syria. On this, see, e.g., Luz 2007, 56–­58 (GV = 2002a, 100–­103). 84 Among others, scholars who argue for Antioch include Streeter 1956, 500–­523; Meier 1979, 15 (see also Meier 1983, 22–­27); Zumstein 1980, 131–­38; Carter 1996, 24–­25; Sim 1998b, 53–­62; Slee 2003, 118–­22; Zetterholm 2003, 211–­16. For Syria in general, see, e.g., Schweizer 1974, 138–­40; Gnilka 1985, 128–­31; Feldtkeller 1993, 17, who prefers “the region between Emesa, Kyrrhos, and Hierapolis.” For the alternatives discussed in scholarship, see the overview in Stanton 1980, 1941–­42. 85 See Luz 2007, 58 (GV= 2002a, 102–­3): “In short, the Gospel of Matthew does not betray where it was written. It originated certainly in a larger Syrian city whose lingua franca was Greek. In my opinion Antioch is not the worst hypothesis. Thus perhaps the Gospel of Matthew comes from a (!) church of Antioch, but that is no more than a hypothesis.” 86 The advantage would be that the closer proximity to Galilee would let the significance of the Pharisees in the Matthean environment be better explained (see above). Certainty cannot, however, be obtained here. 87 Sim 1998b, 63–­107.



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concern here is not—­as it seems to be on the basis of the only witness, Gal 2.11–­14—­merely with questions of table fellowship between gentile Christians and Jewish Christians. Rather, the representatives of James are said to have advocated the position of the Jerusalem “circumcision party.”88 After the supposedly unclear outcome of the meeting of the apostles in Jerusalem,89 they are said to have demanded the circumcision of gentile Christians90 and to have prevailed with this in Antioch. Against the united evidence of Acts 15 and Gal 2.1–­10, James becomes here an advocate of a law-­observant mission among non-­Jews that includes circumcision. Peter is said to have attached himself to this position in Antioch. For the Antiochene community, this constituted, according to this view, a radical change: “The Antiochene church was transformed from a law-­free community to a law-­observant community modelled on the traditions and practice of the Hebrews in Jerusalem. . . . In the Petrine Antiochene church, Gentiles must convert to Judaism prior to their acceptance into what was now a Christian Jewish community.”91 The problem of this interpretation is that it must run strongly against the grain of existing sources. With greater trust in the sources, the vast majority construes the basic lines differently. The Jerusalem pillars, including James and Peter, accepted the circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles. At the incident at Antioch, the concern in the case of the clarification of the question of food was with a follow-­up problem. If this is correct, then—­irrespective of how the positions of the Antiochenes before and after the Antioch incident are determined exactly—­we must continue to affirm that the circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles was not a Pauline distinctive. The “normal hypothesis” that Matthew is an advocate of the circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles cannot therefore be opposed—­as Anthony Saldarini has done—­by pointing to the fact that the influence of Paul on Matthew and his group is “very doubtful.”92 For at the meeting of the apostles in 48 CE, the concern was not with the acceptance of the Pauline mission to the gentiles but with the Antiochene mission practice (especially—­against Paul’s suggestion in Gal 2.7 that he was recognized as the ‘gentile Peter’—­since Barnabas was more likely the head of the Antiochene delegation93). According to a series of scholars, it should even be assumed that the Hellenists who were driven out of Jerusalem already 88

Sim 1998b, 95. See Sim 1998b, 107: “The outcome of this meeting is not certain.” 90 Sim 1998b, 96: “The issue at Antioch was not therefore how two different but legitimate groups of Christians could eat together, but whether uncircumcised Gentiles could be members of the Christian community at all.” 91 Sim 1998b, 107. 92 Saldarini 1994, 157. 93 Cf. Konradt 2011, 21–­22, with n10. 89

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began very early on to integrate Godfearers without circumcision as full members into the Christ-­believing house communities.94 If, however, the question of the legitimacy of circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles only around 48 CE became so heated that a meeting of the apostles took place with regard to it, then this was probably triggered by the fact that a new development had come to pass, probably in the framework of the mission of Barnabas and Paul in southern Asia Minor (Acts 13–­14). Presumably, there arose here, for the first time within the framework of the Antiochene mission, gentile Christian groups without previous contact with Jewish communities and without attachment to these. The status of these groups raised questions. Thus, with this a new stage of development was reached vis-­à-­vis the acceptance of Godfearers into Christ-­believing Jewish groups.

If the preceding reflections point even approximately in the right direction, then, under the presupposition that the Gospel of Matthew belongs in the sphere of influence of Antioch, we may assume that in the Matthean environment there were missionary activities among non-­Jews in which the demand for circumcision played no role. This makes it at least probable that this also holds true for the Gospel of Matthew, even though it must be conceded, of course, that the decision of the apostolic council, as the Galatian counter-­missionaries exemplarily illustrate, was not accepted by all Christ-­believers and thus the controversial question was by no means decided once and for all in 48 CE. If, however, the specific place of authority of Peter in the circle of disciples (see esp. Matt 16.17–­19) can also be evaluated as a signal for the esteem for him in the Matthean group, then the option of a circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles increases in substance. For it can scarcely be assumed that the Matthean community affirmed the mission to the gentiles but rejected the decision of the apostolic council. Ad (3): If indications that emerge from Matthean theology are sought, then, in the first place, we must pursue the Matthean understanding of the Torah. If, against the background of the previous sketch of the early Jewish spectrum, we ask how Matthew is to be placed therein, then, especially in view of the decidedly anti-­Pharisaic polemic of the Gospel, it is in the realm of possibility that he must be situated more toward the pole of the principle that is ascribed to Ananias in Josephus, Ant. 20. Put the other way around, does 5.18, as David Sim has postulated, actually already present a substantial argument for the circumcision of Christ-­believers from the gentiles?95 94

See, e.g., Rau 1994, 79–­96. For the appeal to Matt 5.18, see Sim 1998b, 253; Sim 2009, 58–­59. In addition to Sim, see Slee 2003, 142. 95



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The question of the relationship of the Matthean Jesus and his proclamation to the Torah is one of the main problems of Matthean exegesis. At the center of the debate stands the interpretation of the antitheses in Matt 5.21–­48. Here it is disputed whether these should be read in a way that is critical of the Torah or in a way that is critical of its interpretation, i.e., whether Jesus’ antitheses are directed against Torah commandments themselves96 or against their understanding in certain Jewish groups.97 Likewise, the question of the relationship between the antitheses and the programmatic passage in 5.17–­20 is controversial. Again, I must restrict myself to main lines and to a rough sketch.98 On the basis of 5.17–­19, I start, as a basic decision, from the current majority position that for Matthew the Torah remains fundamentally in force until the end of the world.99 This, however, establishes only a basic direction. For even though this can be established as a basis, a rather broad spectrum of possibilities nevertheless opens up with regard to the question of how the Matthean understanding of the Law is to be specified exactly. Above all, the relationship between two statements must be clarified. On the one hand, 5.18 does advocate the validity of all the commandments. On the other hand, however, a distinction is made between great and small commandments on multiple occasions, for which Matthew can adduce as a leitmotif the quotation from Hos 6.6 (“I desire mercy and not sacrifice”), which he inserts in 9.13 and 12.7. On the one side, according to 23.23, there are the βαρύτερα τοῦ νόμου, which include justice, mercy, and faithfulness. Moreover, the commandment of love for neighbor together with the commandment of love for God is regarded as ἐντολὴ μεγάλη ἐν τῷ νόμῳ (22.36), and, alongside the double commandment of love, Torah and Prophets can, according to Matthew, also be summarized in the Golden Rule (7.12). On the other side, there are small commandments (5.19), which include, among others, the tithe (23.23), the observance of the Sabbath (12.1–­14), and the purity

96 The assumption that Matthew quotes or seeks to quote Torah commandments is—­despite the fact that the interpretations sometimes diverge significantly in other respects—­still advocated by many scholars. See for many Broer 1980; Luz 2007, 229–­30 (GV = 2002a, 330); Sim 1998b, 129; Eckstein 1997, 396–­403; Niebuhr 1999, 176–­77; Branch-­Trevathan 2020, 212. 97 See in this sense Burchard 1998b, 40–­44; Dietzfelbinger 1979, 3; Kuhn 1989, 213–­18; Charles 2002, 8; Ziethe 2018, 300; Jabbarian 2021, 278–­79. 98 For a more detailed discussion of the Matthean understanding of the Torah, see chapters 4 and 5 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 288–­315 and 316–­47). 99 The position that the Torah, according to Matt 5.17–­ 19, is ‘aufgehoben’ (sublated) in the double sense of the word—­i.e., cancelled or abolished and preserved or maintained—­has been advocated in the most recent phase of scholarship by Roland Deines. As far as I can see, however, this has thus far remained a minority position. Deines has developed his view in detail in his book Die Gerechtigkeit der Torah im Reich des Messias (Deines 2005) and summarized it in his essay “Not the Law but the Messiah” (Deines 2008). Cf. now also Deines 2021, esp. 316–­26.

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commandments (15.1–­20). In light of this finding, which has been pointed out only in a rough manner here, it is necessary to ask whether the validity of all commandments or the distinction between small and great commandments is to be emphasized. Furthermore, the directional thrust of 5.17–­19 must be discussed. The basic alternatives here are whether Matthew, in an inter-­Christian conflict, opposes tendencies to abolish or at least neglect Torah commandments and instead affirms the validity of the whole Torah or whether he—­at least also—­has to engage critically with the accusation of the Pharisaic opponent that the Christ-­believers abolish the Torah.100 In this case, one could (not: one must) to a significant degree attribute 5.18 to apologetic rhetoric or to the pastoral reassurance of the community members.101 If the two options that were respectively mentioned first (the emphasis lies on the validity of all the commandments; the directional thrust of 5.17 is inner-­Christian) are combined with each other, then this can be developed into the thesis of a decidedly conservative Jewish-­Christian understanding of the Law. David Sim completes this position by interpreting the soteriological statement of 5.19a in such a way that the person who relaxes a small commandment is excluded from salvation.102 Since the formulation ἐλάχιστος κληθήσεται ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ, if taken literally, has a different meaning, it must be postulated that the formulation is mere rhetorical finesse, which owes itself to the attempt to emphasize the connection between conduct and consequences through the taking up of a word from the first part of the sentence in the second part. Matthew, however, is familiar with the notion—­which occasionally occurs in early Jewish works and also later in rabbinic literature—­that there are different degrees of honor in the kingdom of heaven,103 so that nothing militates against taking 5.19 as it stands. The alternative between sharing in salvation and being excluded from salvation occurs first in connection with the juxtaposition between the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, on the one hand, and the “better righteousness” expected from the disciples, on the other hand, in v. 20. The scribes and Pharisees’ obedience to the Torah must therefore exhibit deficiencies that are greater or weightier than what is the case with the relaxing of small commandments in v. 19.104 For 100

On this question, cf. chapter 4 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 307–­8). Cf. Foster 2004, 196: “For pastoral reasons Matthew assures his community that the Law is still ‘fulfilled’ by their adherence to Jesus as Messiah.” 102 Sim 1998a, 583–­84. In this vein, see also Schweizer 1986, 62; Gielen 1998, 67–­68, 81–­82; Pennington 2017, 178. 103 See Matt 5.12; 11.11; 10.41–­42; 18.1–­4; 20.23. For relevant Jewish texts, see 4 Ezra 8.49; 10.57; 2 En. 44.5. For rabbinic attestations, see Strack/Billerbeck 1922, 249–­50; 1928, 1138–­43. 104 A different position is taken by Broer 1980, 62, according to whom the righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes is lacking “in the teaching on the adherence to iota 101



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they fall short, as the antitheses illustrate, of the great commandments in a serious way. Thus, the meaning of 5.19–­20 is that the person who relaxes small commandments gains admission to the kingdom of heaven but must reckon with less honor there, whereas the one who relaxes great commandments must remain outside. The thesis of the different relevance of keeping ‘small’ and ‘great’ commandments, which is suggested by 5.19–­20, finds confirmation in the Matthean pericope of the rich man (19.16–­22). His question about the conditions for obtaining eternal life is answered in Matthew—­in distinction from Mark—­specifically with “keep the commandments” (19.17). Subsequent to this, however, only the Decalogue commandments are quoted in response to the question “which ones?” (19.18–­19). In the context it is thus clear that the obtaining of eternal life is decided in the keeping of these commandments. The clear weighting between social commandments and purity commandments in Matt 15.1–­20 also fits seamlessly here. In light of this evidence, which has only been sketched out roughly here, we must, in my view, conclude that the aforementioned differentiation between ‘small’ and ‘great’ commandments is to be emphasized. If this profile of the Matthean understanding of the Law is considered, then one can scarcely justify the view that circumcision is assumed entirely as a matter of course in 28.19. This applies all the more since the question is not at all with the fundamental question of the relevance of the commandment of circumcision for Jews, but with the question of whether formal conversion to Judaism is necessary for Christ-­believing persons from the gentiles and whether their salvation depends on their practice of commandments such as circumcision, observance of the sabbath, and food commandments, i.e., the so-­called ‘boundary markers.’ In other words, the Matthean understanding of the Law is oriented in such a way that gentile Christians keep the (soteriologically) really important commandments without circumcision or obligation to the food laws. In this context, it is instructive to refer again to the witness of the Didache. The social commandments presented in Did. 1–­5 are obligatory for converts from the gentiles. But concerning food, the terse statement of Did. 6.3a says “bear what you are able (ὃ δύνασαι βάστασον)!” Only food sacrificed to idols is strictly forbidden (Did. 6.3; cf. the apostolic decree in Acts 15.20, 29; 21.25). There is, however, no talk here of circumcision, but there is talk, again, of baptism (Did. 7). Here, a moderate Jewish-­Christian position is expressed, as this also applies, in my view, for the Gospel of Matthew.105 and stroke and these smallest commandments.” Similarly, Luomanen 1998, 85 thinks that 5.20 makes explicit the criticism of the scribes and Pharisees that is implicit in 5.19. Such a lack, however, does not lead to exclusion from salvation according to v. 19. 105 On the latter, cf., e.g., Luz 2007, 220 (GV = 2002a, 317).

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This finding can be connected with the comments above on the placement of Matthew in the early Christian context of circumcision-­ free mission to the gentiles. With regard to the early Christian practice of a circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles, it is probably helpful in general to nuance the much too sweeping alternative ‘law-­free or law-­ observant’106 and especially to differentiate between circumcision-­free and law-­free mission to the gentiles. This is confirmed by the programmatic statement ἡ περιτομὴ οὐδέν ἐστιν καὶ ἡ ἀκροβυστία οὐδέν ἐστιν, ἀλλὰ τήρησις ἐντολῶν θεοῦ, taken up by Paul in 1 Cor 7.19. For this statement, as shown already by the expression τήρησις ἐντολῶν θεοῦ, which does not occur elsewhere in Paul, is probably based on pre-­ Pauline (Antiochene?) tradition.107 The foreskin, i.e., the belonging to Judaism, is irrelevant; the keeping of the commandments is not affected by this, and this is what matters. Here too, we can refer back to the position of the Jewish merchant Ananias, which is presented in Ant. 20.41. For his view that Izates could honor God even without circumcision is justified by the claim that the keeping of the ancestral laws of the Jews (τὰ πάτρια τῶν Ἰουδαίων) is more important than being circumcised. It is not a big step from here to 1 Cor 7.19.108 While the (Jerusalem) Hellenists, who, as we have pointed out, integrated Godfearers without circumcision, may have been regarded as lawbreakers by conservative Jews (as Eleazar said that the uncircumcised Izates would break the Torah that he reads [Ant. 20.44–­45]), they scarcely regarded themselves as lawbreakers, let alone as fundamentally law-­free.109 In particular, the practice of circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles is not to be equated with its Pauline version, as Paul developed it after his separation from Antioch. In other words, on the basis of the Hellenists understanding of the Law, the fundamental affirmation of the Torah, as we encounter it in the Gospel of Matthew, can be reconciled without further ado with the practice of circumcision-­free mission to the gentiles. Ad (4): Finally, it is necessary to ask about the justification of the turning to the gentiles in the theological conception of the First Evangelist. Two aspects are probably of primary importance in this context. I limit myself again to a concise sketch.110 106

On this, see, e.g., Sim’s thesis (Sim 1998b, 107), discussed above, that the Antiochene community changed, as a result of the incident at Antioch, “from a law-­free community to a law-­observant community.” 107 On the tradition history of 1 Cor 7.19, cf., e.g., Schrage 1995, 131; and Rau 1994, 90–­93. 108 Cf. Rau 1994, 99. 109 On the distinction between freedom from circumcision and freedom from the Law, cf. Rau 1994, 79–­100. 110 For a more in-­depth discussion, cf. Konradt 2016, 115–­45; and especially Konradt 2014b (GV = 2007).



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a) The legitimation of the mission to the gentiles on the basis of the scriptures of Israel:111 We have already referred to the signal that is already set in 1.1 through the motif of Jesus’ Abrahamic sonship. The scriptural connection here is probably concretely the blessing of the nations in Gen 12.3 (cf. 18.18; 22.18; 26.4).112 If the common denominator of the four women in the genealogy of Jesus (without Mary) is to be seen in the fact that they were all regarded to be non-­Jews, then this shows that Israel has always been open for persons from the nations. If, as often assumed, the first two gifts of the three gifts of the magi, i.e., χρυσὸς καὶ λίβανος, allude to Isa 60.6,113 then the coming of the magi in Matt 2 could bring in the motif of the pilgrimage of the nations114 and at the same time transform it messianically. Furthermore, there is a far-­reaching consensus that the taking up of the expression Γαλιλαία τῶν ἐθνῶν in the quotation of Isa 8.23 in Matt 4.15 points ahead to the sending out of the disciples in Matt 28.16–­20, so that this appears as something that is grounded in scripture. This is reinforced by the quotation of Isa 42.1–­4 in Matt 12.18–­21,115 according to which “the gentiles hope in his name.” If one surveys these texts, it becomes clear that the incorporation of the ‘gentiles’ into salvation is, according to Matthew, anchored in scripture and is integrated into the fundamental idea that the promises given in scripture have found their fulfillment in Jesus. The deliberate missionary turning to the gentiles takes account of this new salvation-­historical situation. In that case, it must be asked whether Matthew sees the turning to the nations as grounded more precisely in a certain aspect of his story of Jesus. This brings me to the second aspect: b) In this context, we must ask concretely about the Matthean interpretation of the death and resurrection of Jesus. The specific turning to Israel finds expression, as we have seen, in the earthly activity of the Son of David, Jesus. Here the turning to the gentiles is even programmatically excluded (15.24), though in 8.5–­ 13, 8.28–­34, and 15.21–­28 salvation is already granted extra ordinem also to non-­Jews. Is the expansion of salvation to the gentile world based in the Matthean conception on the soteriological interpretation of the death of the Son of God116 as salvific death with which the fulfillment of the promises is completed (cf. Matt 26.54, 56)? Is, as has often been advocated, the talk of the “many” for whom the blood of Jesus 111

On this aspect, cf. the comprehensive study of Ziethe 2018. Cf., e.g., Wilk 2002, 84; W. Kraus 2011, 206; and esp. Ziethe 2018, 118–­21. 113 See, however, Sim 1999, 997, who has argued against this view. 114 Thus, e.g., Davies/Allison 1988, 249–­50, 253; Carter 2003–­2004, 273–­74. 115 On this quotation, see in detail Beaton 2002; as well as Ziethe 2018, 265–­88. 116 On the meaning of the Son of God motif in the passion, see W. Kraus 1997 and Konradt 2014b, 297–­307 (GV = 2007, 319–­29). 112

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Christology, Torah, and Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew

was shed for the forgiveness of sins (26.28) to be understood universally?117 In my view, this question must be answered affirmatively,118 and this is to be connected, further, with the previously sketched christological thesis that just as the Davidic sonship of Jesus emphasized by Matthew is coordinated with the fulfillment of the promises that apply to Israel, so the universality of salvation is connected with Jesus’ divine sonship.119 The sending to the ἔθνη in Matt 28.18–­20 is directly connected to the proclamation of the appointment of the risen one to universal Lord (28.18b). The universal sending appears as a consequence of the universal position of rule of the exalted one. This aspect is, however, scarcely to be viewed as an alternative to the question raised above about the soteriological interpretation of the death of Jesus as a grounding factor for the universality of the salvific turning, especially since Matthew has drawn together Jesus’ death and resurrection into one coherent event.120 If it is correct that the sending out of the disciples to all nations in Matt 28.18–­20 is connected with the new salvation-­historical situation that is given with the culmination of the story told by Matthew of the fulfillment of the promises in Jesus’ death, resurrection, and installation to universal Lord, then in my view it would, in light of this theological context of justification, be scarcely comprehensible if the Matthean community is merely to have continued the usual Jewish practice of converting to Judaism. If it is assumed that Matt 28.18–­20 does not have persons who must become Jews before their incorporation into the ecclesia in view, then this, after what has been said above, still in no way means that the Matthean gentile Christians would not need to be distinguished from the Pauline ones. This has rightly been pointed out, for example, by Donald Senior.121 Rather, the position on the Torah is clearly different. The interpretation of social commandments of the Torah by Jesus, as it is carried out, by way of example, in the antitheses, is just as obligatory for Christ-­believers from the nations as for Jewish Christ-­believers. Moreover, ‘gentile’ converts in the Matthean community encounter a version of the story of Jesus that strongly emphasizes the relatedness to Israel of the ministry of Jesus and highlights the fact that with their entrance into the ecclesia gentile Christians are incorporated into a salvation history that has its beginning with Abraham, the founding father of Israel, and in the turning to the ‘lost sheep’ of Israel represents an enduring task in the framework of the eschatological renewal of the people of God. In the words of Donald Senior, “Matthew anticipated those Gentiles who not

117

Thus, e.g., Heil 1991, 38; Carter 1996, 215, 219; Olmstead 2003, 85. See Konradt 2014b, 307–­8 (GV = 2007, 330). 119 See above. Cf. now also Konradt 2020a, 116–­22. 120 On this, see the insertion of ἀπ’ ἄρτι in 26.64 and the Easter dimension that Jesus’ death receives through the events in 27.51–­53. 121 Senior 1999, 20. 118



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only exhibit faith in Jesus but also understand that the Jewish character of Jesus and his teaching is essential to the gospel.”122

How far the integration of non-­Jews had advanced already at the time of the composition of the Gospel depends, as we have seen, on the questions— which cannot be answered with sufficient clarity—­of when and with which intensity the community turned to the mission to the nations. From the fact that the Matthean group sees itself as standing in a competitive relationship to the Pharisees and the fact that Judaism in general appears as the primary social context, it can probably be concluded that the Matthean community was a group that was at least predominantly still shaped in a Jewish way, i.e., ‘gentile Christians’ represent the minority. But we cannot say how large this minority was, how strong it was growing at the time of the composition of the Gospel, or whether it already exists at all. But the mission to the nations assigned to the disciples in 28.16–­20 signals in the long run—­irrespective of where exactly the Matthean group is located in this process at the time of the composition of the Gospel—­a development that in the Judaism that was forming anew after 70 CE had to lead the community successively to the margins and ultimately out of Judaism. This thesis evokes a further question, namely, the question raised at the outset of whether the metaphor of muri is at all suitable for adequately describing the historical context of the Matthean community (or communities). 5. The Problem of the Metaphor of Muri The alternative ‘extra muros’ or ‘intra muros’ presupposes that a clear assignment is not only possible but also helpful for our understanding. In my view, however, two considerations speak against the use of such a static metaphor. First, the answer is probably primarily a question of (ancient and contemporary) perspective. Whether the Pharisees viewed the Christ-­ believing Matthean group as still being a form of Judaism, though one that was flawed in their eyes, can be doubted if there were (a significant number of) uncircumcised gentile Christians in it.123 By contrast, Matthew did not associate the theological position advocated by him with 122

Senior 1999, 20. A specific observation may be added here. In Matt 12.1–­21 and 15.1–­28 Jesus withdraws after a conflict with the Pharisees (12.15; 15.21), and there follows in each case a text that illuminates the universal dimension of salvation (in a certain way 4.12–­16 can also be placed here). This is not to be understood in such a way that this is meant to depict in advance Jesus’ (supposed) withdrawal from Israel and turning to other nations, for 12.15 speaks of the ἀκολουθεῖν of ὄχλοι πολλοί. However, the redactionally configured repetition of this ‘scheme’ could reflect the fact that in the distance of the Matthean community to the Pharisees (and the synagogue dominated by them), the openness of the ecclesia for persons from the nations constituted an important factor. For this, reference could also be 123

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a turning away from the faith of Israel but rather claimed to elucidate its only adequate understanding. And socially, Judaism is apparently his primary life context. At the same time, with the Easter expansion of the salvific turning to all nations something fundamental had, of course, changed for him. For him the ecclesia is—­at least conceptually—­not merely a community of salvation in Israel. From today’s perspective, the answer depends, first, on how one imagines the internal plurality of Judaism after 70 CE and especially the modes of participation of interested non-­Jews in synagogal life or their (partial) integration into this and, second, on where exactly one places the Gospel of Matthew in the development of the missionary activities to the nations. If, however, the question of the placement is fundamentally dependent on the respective perspective, then one must object—­with the fitting formulation of Knut Backhaus—­that the muri are ultimately nothing more than “drifting cognitive sand dunes.”124 The potential of the muri metaphor for grasping the social situation is, however, also limited for a second reason. The intra/extra muros debate falls short as a historical or social historical question, since it tends to view the relationship between Matthean community and Judaism in isolation from the embedding of both the community and the synagogue in the larger societal context. If the majority position is correct that the Gospel of Matthew comes from the Syrian sphere and perhaps more specifically from the metropolis Antioch or from a city in the south of Syria,125 then one must adopt a broader starting point in terms of social context. And this is even more the case since the Matthean community also turns to non-­Jews in its mission and regards itself as empowered to do so on the basis of the Christ event as the new fundamental story of salvation. With respect to the intra/extra muros debate, this means that, in the language of the metaphor, the muri that demarcate Judaism from the gentiles (cf. Let. Aris. 139) have lost their constitutive significance. For this reason, it appears to me advisable to forgo the muri metaphor and the strict choice between whether the community is ‘inside’ or ‘outside’ Judaism. Instead, I suggest we ‘merely’ affirm that Judaism forms the primary life context of the Matthean community and, more specifically, that it is the historical situation into which the Matthean story of Jesus is embedded, insofar as it is fundamentally shaped by the conflict between the Christ-­believers and the Pharisaically dominated synagogue. made to the fact that with Sabbath and food halakah in 12.1–­14 and 15.1–­20 the concern is with important Jewish identity markers. 124 Backhaus 2004, 79: “kognitive Wanderdünen.” 125 See above.



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6. Perspectives Against the background of the preceding overview, an attempt will be made in conclusion to consider desiderata and possible perspectives for further scholarship: 1. The appreciation of Israel-­related and universal characteristics in the analysis of the theological conception and with a view to the social placement of the Matthean group: The thesis—­presented by J. Andrew Overman, Anthony Saldarini, David Sim, Anders Runesson, John Kampen, and others—­that views the Matthean group as a Torah-­observant Jewish group signifies an important corrective to readings of the Gospel that left underdetermined the strong emphasis on the turning to Israel and, in general, the great significance of the ‘Jewish world’ (references to scripture, controversies over the understanding of Torah, conflict with the Pharisees, i.e., with another interpretation of Jewish faith and life) with a view to the contemporary situation of the community. At the same time, it must be noted regarding these works that here the Matthean universalism is, conversely, not adequately appreciated. A balanced interpretation must integrate equally the emphasis on the specific turning to Israel and the conspicuously consistent differentiation between the (Galilean) crowds and the authorities as well as the universal characteristics of the Matthean story of Jesus that are not to be denied or marginalized. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew eludes simple classifications. If I see rightly, the fact that different series of statements (specifically Israel-­related as well as universally oriented ones) can be identified in the text has up to now primarily been met with attempts to weigh the two series of statements and make one dominant over the other—­instead of asking more strongly about how the two are interrelated and held together in the theological conception of the Gospel. With a view to the social placement of the Gospel, the tendency to make a clear assignment within the alternative intra or extra muros corresponds to this. If it is permissible to presuppose that the orientation of the missionary activities, as it is grounded in the Matthean story of Jesus, and the social position are coupled with each other, then it follows from the just-mentioned desideratum of a balanced integration of Israel-­related and universal aspects in the analysis and presentation of Matthean theology regarding the social contextualization that here too we must develop differentiated perspectives that combine both the tie to the Jewish life world and the turning to persons from the nations.126 126

Cf. on this Konradt 2021.

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2. Sketching the Gospel of Matthew into the internal differentiation of ancient Judaism: The question “How Jewish is Matthew in a theological perspective?” is scarcely conducive or productive in this general version. Rather, one must consider the internal differentiation of ancient Judaism and ask how the Matthean position can be placed within this spectrum. This applies especially to the Matthean understanding of the Torah and yet also to the Matthean universalism. If we wish to make progress regarding the question of the extent to which the Matthean universalism is still compatible with a fundamentally Jewish character of the Matthean group, then it is necessary to compare the Gospel of Matthew with other early Jewish conceptions that take up the question of the place of the nations.127 With respect to the understanding of the Torah, it is especially necessary to investigate more closely the relationship to early Jewish forms of catechism-­like Torah instruction in which we can find, as in the Gospel of Matthew, a clear receding of ritual commandments and a stronger focus on social-­ethical norms.128 Accordingly, while the question that Roland Deines has raised in criticism of tendencies of recent Matthean scholarship—­“Is it plausible to think that Matthew wrote for the sake of a community . . . that wanted the ‘sinners’ whom Jesus called as his followers to become Law-­observant in a way that the Pharisees or early rabbis would find acceptable?”129—­is, in this pointed formulation, to be answered with “no,” this is, in my view, not tantamount to saying that Matthew did not claim for himself and his group to be Law-­observant. According to the evangelist, it is precisely the scribes and Pharisees who sorely needed to study the scriptures again (9.13; 12.3, 5, 7; 19.4; 21.42). Here, it cannot be stressed enough that in Matt 5.21–­48 striking convergences to ethical tendencies in early Jewish writings can be registered precisely in relation to Jesus’ countertheses. Finally, it is necessary to pay attention to the phenomenon that the scholar of Judaism Karlheinz Müller emphatically pointed out: In early Judaism, not only was the revelation at Sinai viewed as something open and halakah straightforwardly regarded as commanded in the Torah itself, but, beyond this, halakah is to be imagined not simply as an exegesis that was oriented to the exact wording of the Torah and bound to fixed rules of interpretation. Rather, a not insignificant independence of halakah from the written Torah can be registered, i.e., what did not stand in the Torah and sometimes also could not be derived from it without further ado could be passed off quite generously as commanded in the Torah. The basis of halakah was less the wording of the Torah than it was the 127 128 129

On this, see especially Donaldson 2007. See further, e.g., Holtz 2007. On this, cf., fundamentally, Niebuhr 1987. Deines 2008, 70.



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substance of the Torah.130 In short, if we want to make progress regarding the question of the position of Matthew in relation to or within Judaism, then Matthean scholarship must be connected more intensely with the investigation of ancient Judaism and especially with the study of the so-­called Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. The perception of the internal differentiation of ancient Judaism also has consequences for evaluating the significance of ‘parallels’ and ‘analogies.’ For the question of circumcision, David Sim has appealed to the silence about circumcision—­analogous to Matt 28.19—­in the admission into the Qumran community131 and rightly stated that we should not infer from this that there were uncircumcised members in the Qumran community. But what does this mean with regard to Matt 28.19? Do not Qumran and Matthew represent two entirely different early Jewish streams, even though the Qumran texts contain illuminating ‘parallels’ to texts of the Gospel of Matthew in individual cases? In any case, the attitude to the nations and to the Torah in the Qumran writings is, on the whole, clearly different from what we find in the Gospel of Matthew. For the more specific placement of the Gospel of Matthew in relation to the inner variety of ancient forms of Judaism, it would be desirable to have individual studies in which theological themes of the Gospel of Matthew were compared to different early Jewish writings as representatives of different streams or forms of ancient Judaism. To which forms is the Gospel of Matthew close and to which is it not? Precisely if we think we can understand the disagreement between the Matthean community and the Pharisees (largely) as an inner-­Jewish conflict, it is necessary to ask how far the conflicts documented in the Gospel of Matthew continue conflicts found elsewhere in Judaism. 3. The stronger incorporation of the position of the Matthean group within emerging Christianity: At the outset of this essay, I pointed out that the discussion of the position of the Matthean group within emerging Christianity has been intensively carried out only in more recent scholarship. The question of the relationship of the Matthean group to Judaism can, however, only be adequately approached if it is not pursued independently of the inner-­Christian placement of the Matthean group. Both spheres must be brought into connection with each other. Here, it is probably especially significant to position the Matthean understanding of the Law within ancient Judaism and the early Christian movement. The possible congruence with the Hellenists’ understanding 130 131

Cf. K. Müller 1986; 1996. See Sim 1998b, 254.

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of the Law was already signaled above, but this is only one option, which must be tested. At any rate, a broad field lies between the position of the late Paul—­as we encounter it in Galatians/Romans—­and the Pharisaic understanding of the Torah. In my view, it is already problematic to place Matthew too close to the Pharisaic understanding because in that case the sharp conflict with the Pharisees, which is presented specifically with reference to the question of the Law in the Gospel of Matthew, becomes scarcely comprehensible.132 On the other hand, I also think it is not conducive to marginalize the significance of the Torah by referring to the higher authority of Jesus.133 For it is questionable whether Matthew thinks at all in such hierarchical categories. Instead, the emphasis lies on demonstrating the congruence between the activity and fate of Jesus and the scriptures of Israel.

132

On Runesson’s thesis on the Pharisaic prehistory of the Matthean group, see the relevant note in section 2 of this chapter (GV = Konradt 2016, 11n32). 133 Thus the tendency in Foster 2004, 139 and elsewhere. On Deines, see the discussion in section 4 under Ad (3) above (GV = Konradt 2016, 30n98).

2

David’s Son and Lord A Sketch of the Davidic-­Messianic Aspects of Matthean Christology

With fifty-­nine occurrences, “David is one of the most frequently invoked names from the Old Testament in the New Testament.”1 Only in a portion of the attestations, however, is the interest directed to David himself.2 A not inconsiderable number of the occurrences of ‘David’ is due to the notion—­appearing in different early Christian spheres of tradition—­that Jesus is the messiah from the house of David, the Son of David.3 In the writings 1

See Dietrich 2006, 93. In the Synoptic tradition reference must be made especially to the taking up of 1 Sam 21.2–­7 in Mark 2.25–­26 (parr. Matt 12.3–­4; Luke 6.3–­4). Multiple recourses to David owe themselves to the ascription of Psalms to David in the Old Testament Psalter (Mark 12.36, 37 [parr. Matt 22.43, 45; Luke 20.42, 44]; Acts 1.16; 2.25–­31, 34–­35; 4.25–­26; Rom 4.6; 11.9; Heb 4.7). In the historical reviews in the speech of Stephen and the preaching of Paul in Pisidian Antioch, a short part is devoted to David (Acts 7.45–­46; 13.22). In Heb 11.32 David is mentioned by name only as one person among others without further comments. See further Acts 13.34–­37. 3 In the Gospel of Mark, no relevant significance is assigned to the Davidic origin of Jesus. To be sure, Jesus is invoked as “Son of David” by blind Bartimaeus (Mark 10.47, 48) and greeted a little later when he enters Jerusalem with words from Ps 118.26 and with the cry “praised be the coming royal rule of our Father David!” (11.9–­10). But with the critical reflection on the Davidic origin of the messiah in Mark 12.35–­37, the (significance of the) Davidic sonship of Jesus is clearly marginalized, if not fundamentally called into question (on this, cf. Suhl 1968, 57–­60; Schneider 1972, 89–­90; Karrer 2003, 344–­45; contrast Lövestam 1962, 79–­80; Botner 2019, 140, 162–­71). John has no interest at all in the Davidic origin of Jesus. The mention of the fact that the messiah comes from the line of David and from Bethlehem is even put in the mouth of some persons from the crowd as a critical objection to the messiahship of Jesus in John 7.41–­42. In the Gospel of Luke, the Davidic messiahship of Jesus emerges as a leitmotif only in the birth narrative. Joseph comes from the house of David (Luke 1.27; 2.4). Mary is told by the angel Gabriel that God will give her son the throne of his father David (1.32). Zechariah praises God in the Benedictus (1.68–­79) because he has raised up “a horn of salvation in the house of his 2

37

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that became canonized in the New Testament, the christologoumenon of the Davidic messiahship of Jesus advances to the center of the leading ideas that guide christological reflection only in the Gospel of Matthew. Here, the great significance of the presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah is most intimately connected conceptually with the emphasis on the turning of Jesus to Israel. Moreover, Matthew characteristically places weight in this context on scripture as a reference text. The following sketch seeks to work out the basic lines of the Matthean presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah and thus to mark out what is probably the most significant segment of the New Testament Wirkungsgeschichte of ‘David.’ 1. “I will be a father to him, and he will be a son to me” (2 Sam 7.14a): The Davidic Messiah as Son of God In Nathan’s promise for David in 2 Sam 7.8–­17, David is not only promised the eternal perdurance of his house and kingdom (v. 16), to which the later expectation of a Davidic messiah could connect,4 but the motif of the divine sonship of the king—­attested only sparingly elsewhere in the Old Testament5—­is also sounded.6 While this motif, according to the extant sources, played a marginal role at best in the early Jewish messianology7—­ probably because of the significance of the Son of God motif in ancient ruler ideologies8—­the interplay between Davidic sonship and divine sonship is of decisive importance for the evangelist Matthew. servant David” (1.69). Jesus is born in the “city of David” (2.4, 11). In Acts the Davidic origin is taken up in Paul’s sermon in Pisidian Antioch (Acts 13.23). Moreover, Luke has the Lord’s brother James refer to Am 9.11–­12 at the apostolic council (Acts 15.16–­18). The taking up of the Davidic origin of Jesus surfaces in the formulaic material in Rom 1.3–­4 (see also 2 Tim 2.8). Finally, the Davidic descent of Jesus is presented in Rev 5.5; 22.16, without it being developed further. With the talk of the “keys of David” from Isa 22.22, Rev 3.7 attributes to Jesus the authority “to make an irrevocable decision about who belongs to Israel, the ‘house of David’ ” (Roloff 1987, 61). 4 See Pss. Sol. 17.4: “Lord, you chose David to be king over Israel, and swore to him about his descendants forever, that his kingdom should not fail before you” (trans. R. B. Wright in OTP 2: 665). See further also Sir 47.11aβ; T. Jud. 22.3; 4Q174 Frag. 1i+21+2 (3.)10–­13; 4Q252 2–­5. 5 In addition to 2 Sam 7.14, see also Ps 2.7 and Ps 89.27–­28. 6 In the text that we now have, v. 13 suggests a connection of the son predication only to Solomon (cf. Böckler 2002, 192–­93). For reconstructions of a dynastically oriented Grundform, see, e.g., Dietrich 1992, 116–­21; Pietsch 2003, 19–­27. 7 In 4Q174 Frag. 1i+21+2 (3.)10–­13, excerpts from 2 Sam 7.11b–­14a are quoted and interpreted messianically (see Zimmermann 1998, 110–­12). Moreover, if the interpretation of Zimmermann 1998, 128–­70 (thus also Knibb 1995, 174–­77)—­which I regard as plausible—­is followed, then the talk of “son of God” or “son of the Most High” in 4Q246 2.1 should probably be related positively to a messianic figure. The interpretation of 4Q246 is, to be sure, hotly contested (see, e.g., Schreiber 2000, 498–­508). 8 See Karrer 1998, 191–­92.



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Matthew found an allusion to Ps 2.7 in his Markan Vorlage in Mark 1.11. In the baptism of Jesus, the voice from heaven says, “You are my beloved Son, in you I am well pleased.” Matthew has changed the personal address in the second person into a proclamatory “this is my beloved Son” (Matt 3.17). The reason for this is scarcely that Matthew wanted to present a public proclamation.9 It is more likely that he sought to prevent a possible misunderstanding of the heavenly voice in the sense of an adoption of Jesus as Son of God at the baptism.10 For Matthew connected the divine sonship of Jesus with Jesus’ conception by the Holy Spirit (Matt 1.18–­25).11 To be sure, against this interpretation of the conception ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου and the virgin birth it may be objected that there is no explicit talk of Jesus as Son of God until the reflection quotation from Hos 11.1 in Matt 2.15. It is conspicuous, however, that Matthew introduces the quotation of Isa 7.14 in Matt 1.22, which presents the virgin birth as a fulfillment of scripture, with the exact same formula as the Hosea quotation in 2.15,12 and thereby relates the two quotations to each other.13 Moreover, reference can be made to the joining of Spirit and divine sonship. This not only characterizes the Markan presentation of the baptism of Jesus (Mark 1.10–­11) taken up in Matt 3.16–­17, but also appears in the Jewish Christian tradition taken up in Rom 1.3–­4, which displays an important affinity to the Matthean christological conception.14 While Jesus, according to Matt 1.18–­15, is Son of God from the conception onward, he becomes Son of David through the fact that Joseph, whom Matthew explicitly characterizes as a descendent of David in 1.20,15 names him (1.25) according to the instruction of the angel and thus adopts him.16 If this is compared with the adoption of the king as son of God found in Ps 2.7,17 Matt 1 displays a reversed process of adoption. The Davidic ruler is not adopted as son of God, but the Son of God is incorporated by Joseph into the series of descendants of David. The Old 9 On the question of the public nature of the setting, see Konradt 2014b, 287–­89 (GV = 2007, 309–­10). 10 Cf. Gnilka 1988, 79. 11 In this sense, see also Pesch 1967, 410–­11, 416–­19; R. E. Brown 1993, 133–­37; Riedl 1991, 95–­109; Broer 1992, 1277; Novakovic 2003, 46–­47 and elsewhere. A different position is taken by Verseput 1987, 532–­33; Nolland 1996. 12 The introductory formulation reads ἵνα πληρωθῇ τὸ ῥηθὲν ὑπὸ κυρίου διὰ τοῦ προφήτου only in Matt 1.22; 2.15. 13 On this, see Pesch 1967, 397–­98, 405–­13. 14 On this, see Konradt 2014b, 311, 376 (GV = 2007, 333–­34, 400). See further Theißen 1999, 146n5; Dormeyer 1992, 1367. A different position is taken by Versput 1987, 540. 15 On the redactional origin of υἱὸς Δαυίδ in 1.20, see Burger 1970, 103–­4; as well as Luz 2007, 90n9 (GV = 2002a, 142n9). A different position is taken by Davies/Allison 1988, 207–­8. 16 Cf., e.g, Suhl 1968, 67–­68; Burger 1970, 104; Novakovic 2003, 43–­45. 17 On Ps 2.7 in this sense, see H.-­J. Kraus 1989, 141–­43.

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Testament tradition, as we find it in Ps 2.7, 2 Sam 7.14, and Ps 89.27–­28, is thereby modified in a significant way. This goes hand in hand with the fact that the divine sonship of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew as a whole appears as the central christological predicate.18 This affirmation, however, does not justify a marginalization of the motif of Jesus’ Davidic sonship in Matthew.19 Rather, emphasis must be placed on the leading significance that the connection—­founded in the aforementioned Old Testament texts—­between divine and Davidic sonship has in the christological conception of the Matthean story of Jesus. This can be corroborated by a diachronically oriented observation. Matthew found the motif of divine sonship in his Markan Vorlage,20 whereas the emphasis on Jesus’ Davidic sonship goes back to Matthew’s own hand.21 The leading significance of the conceptual connection between Jesus’ divine sonship and Davidic sonship in the First Gospel is reinforced through the Matthean reworking of the question of the Davidic sonship of the messiah from Mark 12.35–­37 in Matt 22.41–­46. Matthew does not have Jesus raise the question “How do the scribes say that the Christ is David’s son?” (Mark 12.35) and then immediately problematize this in a monologue of Jesus through the reference to the fact that David himself calls him “Lord” (12.36–­37). Instead, Matthew constructs a dialogue between Jesus and the Pharisees in which Jesus confronts them with the question, “What do you think about the Christ? Whose son is he?” (Matt 22.42). While the Pharisees refer only to the Davidic sonship, the correct answer for Matthew has two parts, whose two statements form an indissoluble connection that leads to the center of the christological conception of the First Evangelist and makes a bridge back to Matt 1 in the narrative flow of the Gospel: The messiah is Son of David and Son of God.22 This is 18

To this extent, a partial justification can be conceded to the special emphasis placed on the motif of divine sonship in Kingbury 1975. See, however, the following. 19 Against Kingsbury 1976 (cf. the relevant note in section 3 below [GV = Konradt 2016, 162n68]). 20 On Jesus’ divine sonship in the Gospel of Mark, see Breytenbach 1991; Schnelle 2009, 406–­7 (GV = 2007, 376–­78). 21 On the findings in the Gospel of Mark, see above. There is, in addition, no indication of an appearance of the title Son of David in the Sayings Source. In addition to the four attestations that he has taken over from Mark (Matt 20.30, 31; 22.42, 45 par. Mark 10.47, 48; 12.35, 37), Matthew has inserted the title in six more places (1.1; 9.27; 12.23; 15.22; 21.9, 15). Above all, it should be noted that the increased talk of Jesus as “Son of David” represents merely one indication of the significance of the Davidic messiahship of Jesus. It is supported by other expressions such as the shepherd metaphor in 2.6; 9.36; 15.24 (on this, see below). 22 In the context that precedes Matt 22.41–­46, Matthew has explicitly connected the Davidic sonship and the divine sonship of Jesus with the Christ title. On the one hand, Matt 1.1(–­17); 2.4; 11.2 point to the Davidic-­messianic character. On the other hand, Matthew adds ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ζῶντος to Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ.



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precisely what is developed through the two πῶς questions in Matt 22.43, 45, which do not have the exact same meaning.23 The first πῶς question starts from Davidic sonship, which the Pharisees have specified in their answer (22.42) and aims to problematize how or in what sense David calls him “Lord”—­in the psalm verse quoted in 22.44 (Ps 110.1)—­leading to the answer: because he is God’s Son and thus superordinated over David. In the second πῶς question, by contrast, the concern is, conversely, with how or in what sense the Son of God designated as “Lord” by David is his Son. The readers of the Gospel know the answer from Matt 1.18–­25: because Joseph, a son of David (1.20), has adopted the Son of God Jesus as his son. In the Gospel of Matthew, the emphasis on Jesus’ (exclusive) turning to Israel during his earthly activity (15.24),24 with which the promises given to Israel in scripture are fulfilled, is connected with the prominent development of the christologoumenon of the Davidic messiahship of Jesus. Thus, what matters for Matthew is letting the earthly activity of the Son of God be centrally determined by the task in and toward Israel that belongs to him as Son of David. Here, the shepherd metaphor is especially significant. 2. “You shall shepherd my people Israel, and you shall be ruler over Israel” (2 Sam 5.2b): The Davidic Messiah as Shepherd of Israel While the prologue in Matt 1.4–­16, which portrays events before the public activity of Jesus, on the whole serves the evangelist’s presentation of the main figure Jesus in his christological identity as Son of David, Son of God, and Immanuel, with whose coming God initiates a new phase of salvation history,25 through the mixed quotation in 2.6 the metaphor of shepherd and flock is likewise already introduced in the prologue as a leitmotif through which Matthew unpacks his understanding of Jesus as the Davidic messianic king. When the magi ask in Jerusalem where the one who has been born king of the Jews is (2.2), King Herod consults the high priests and scribes in order to learn where the Christ is supposed to be born (v. 4). The Idumean (!) Herod correctly deciphers the question of the magi in the sense of the expectation of the royal messiah and thus in the sense of the hope for a messianic Davidic ruler, whom Jesus was introduced as in Matt 1—­namely, 23

On the following, cf. Novakovic 2003, 61–­62. See in detail Konradt 2014b, 49–­74 (GV = 2007, 52–­81). 25 The latter becomes especially clear through the genealogy of Jesus in Matt 1.2–­17, in which Matthew, according to the structuring scheme specified in v. 17, moves, in three generations of fourteen, from Abraham to Jesus and thus indicates that the history of Israel runs in a planned way to Jesus and finds its fulfillment in him. 24

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through the heading in 1.1, which presents Jesus as Son of David and Son of Abraham, through the genealogy in 1.2–­16,26 and through the elucidation of the circumstances of his birth in 1.18–­25. The answer of the high priests and scribes in 2.5–­6 takes this up. They are able to deduce the birthplace of the Davidic messiah from Mic 5.1. Strictly speaking, Mic 5.1–­3 does not place the promised ruler directly in the line of David but envisages—­in a similar way as Isa 11.1—­a completely new beginning and ‘plays’ merely with allusions to the David tradition.27 Matthew does not, however, make this distinction but rather has the Micah quotation—­in his redaction28—­function as an attestation for the birthplace of the messianic Son of David. While Matthew presumably found the Micah quotation (which was sufficient as a scriptural attestation to answer the question of Herod) in the tradition that underlies Matt 2.1–­12,29 the insertion—­probably co-­inspired by the announcement ποιμανεῖ τὸ ποίμνιον αὐτοῦ ἐν ἰσχύι κυρίου in Mic 5.3—­of 2 Sam 5.2,30 which is concerned with the installation of David as king over (the Northern Kingdom of) Israel, probably goes back to the hand of the evangelist himself.31 With this Matthew emphasizes, first, the Davidic coloring of the presentation 26 In the genealogy David is not only emphasized through the structuring theme in 1.17 but also through the fact that he alone is explicitly designated as king. The only one who is mentioned with a title after that is Jesus himself (cf. Gnilka 1988, 4 and elsewhere): He is named Christ (v. 16). In the light of 1.1, the assumption is plausible that Matthew intentionally wanted to make a connection here between the King David and the Davidic messiah Jesus (cf. Oberforcher 1999, 14–­15) in order to underscore the talk of Jesus as the Son of David in 1.1. 27 Cf. Seebass 1992, 51 (not a Davidide, “only David typology”); Kessler 1999, 223–­24, 229. 28 As is well known, the most important modification is the insertion of οὐδαμῶς. Since the messiah was born in Bethlehem, the place can no longer be regarded as ἐλαχίστη εἶ ἐν τοῖς ἠγεμόσιν Ἰούδα (cf. Davies/Allison 1988, 242). 29 It is indeed possible to detach the quotation from the context (cf. Luz 2007, 103 [GV = 2002a, 159]; Vögtle 1971, 20; Paul 2005, 34). On the other hand, Herod’s question to the high priests and scribes leads one to expect a scriptural proof (cf. Menken 2004, 263). Anyhow, the tradition of the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem is probably a theological construction based on Mic 5.1 (a different position is taken by Karrer 1998, 321–­22; on Nazareth as birthplace of Jesus, cf. just Theißen/Merz 1998, 164–­66 [GV = 2001, 158]; and P. Fiedler 2006, 56). This makes a pre-­redactional origin of the quotation at least probable. 30 Beyond this, a connection to Gen 49.10 has sometimes been postulated (see Heater 1983; Willitts 2007, 106–­7), but sufficient assured indications for this connection are lacking. For the use of ἡγούμενος can be unproblematically traced back to the influence of 2 Sam 5.2 (καὶ σὺ ἔσει εἰς ἡγούμενον ἐπὶ τὸν Ισραήλ), while γῆ Ἰούδα can be understood as an allusion of the evangelist, inspired by ἐν τοῖς ἡγεμόσιν Ἰούδα, to the founding father Judah as “progenitor of the royal tribe (1:2–­3)” (Gundry 1994, 29), without there needing to be an intentional allusion to Gen 49. 31 See also Gielen 1998, 33; and Menken 2004, 259–­60, who points to the common use of ὅστις in Matthew. It is possible that ἡγούμενον in Matt 2.6c has fallen into the Micah quotation in connection with the insertion of 2 Sam 5.2 (see also Menken 2004,



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of Jesus as messiah in Matt 2. More specifically, Jesus appears as the Davidic-­messianic shepherd of his people. The Son of David, Jesus, who is born in Bethlehem, the city of David (Luke 2.4),32 is the ἡγούμενος, who, as it was once assigned to David,33 will shepherd God’s people Israel. If it is asked why Matthew does not continue the Micah citation with the quoted passage from Mic 5.3 but makes recourse to 2 Sam 5.2, it may be pointed out, second, that the talk of λαός in 2 Sam 5.2 was significant for him.34 The evangelist thus makes an arc back to Matt 1.21, where the name Jesus is interpreted to mean that Jesus will save his λαός from their sins. The two verses 1.21 and 2.6 form here a material connection. The task of the messianic shepherd Jesus consists fundamentally in saving his people from their sins. This receives sharper contours when we draw the sending logion in 15.24 to it. Not only does the presentation of Jesus as messianic shepherd of his people in 2.6 experience an interpretation through 15.24 in the sense of an exclusive sending to Israel, but the talk of the lost sheep of the house of Israel also reinforces at the same time the soteriological aspect of the ποιμαίνειν of the messianic shepherd, as it was programmatically expressed in 1.21. For the talk of the lostness of the sheep is focused not only, indeed not centrally, on physical distress but, as 18.14 confirms, in the first place on the soteriological plight of the people.35 Jesus’ task to shepherd God’s people Israel is unpacked further by the summary in 4.23. Jesus went around in all Galilee, taught in their synagogues, proclaimed the gospel of the kingdom, and healed every sickness and every affliction ἐν τῷ λαῷ. Here, the connections of 2.6 to 1.21 and 4.23 are by no means to be regarded as alternatives. If salvation is not merely to be related in an isolated manner to the act of the pronouncement of the forgiveness of sins (9.2) or the forgiveness of sins effected by Jesus’ death (and mediated sacramentally, 26.28), then 1.21 can also be placed 259). Finally, Matthean redaction could be responsible for the expression γῆ Ἰούδα, which is not present in the Old Testament text (cf. Schweizer 1986, 17; Gielen 1998, 33). 32 Cf. Gundry 1994, 26: “The stress on Bethlehem serves his interest in Davidic Christology.” 33 In addition to 2 Sam 5.2 (= 1 Chr 11.2), see esp. Ps 78.71–­72. See further 4Q504 Frag. 2 4.6–­8: “And you established your covenant with David in order that he would be a shepherd-­prince over your people (‫)להיות כרעי נגיד על עמכה‬, so that he would sit before you on the throne of Israel forever” (English translation of the German translation of Maier 1995, 608; cf. García Martínez/Tigchelaar 1997/1998, 2:1015). The specific use of the shepherd metaphor with a view to David can be compactly summarized with Brueggemann 1990, 237–­38, by saying that David’s career is presented as David’s rise from shepherd boy to shepherd king. On David as shepherd, see the sketch of Hunziker-­Rodewald 2003, 165–­77. 34 See, likewise, Rothfuchs 1969, 61; Menken 2004, 260. Soares-­Prabhu 1976, 266, presents a false dichotomy when he postulates that “Matthew has added 2 Sam 5,2 to Mic 5,1 not because it speaks about ὁ λαός but because it is a text about David, and so explicitly identifies Jesus as the ‘son of David.’ ” 35 See also Matt 10.28, 39; 16.25.

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as a programmatic sign before 4.23. For, with the Markan pericope of the healing of the paralytic (Mark 2.1–­12 par Matt 9.2–­8), Matthew has taken up, first, the traditional connection between sickness and sin and thus between healing and the forgiveness of sins. The healing appears not merely as restoration of bodily afflictions but is also connected with the forgiveness of the sins that separate from God. In Matt 9.2–­8 the healing becomes virtually an accessory of the foregrounded forgiveness of sins. If exemplary significance is to be assigned to this linkage, then Jesus’ healing action as a whole is placed in the context of the forgiveness of sins.36 Second, the disclosing of the will of God through the authoritative teaching of Jesus (cf. 7.29) opens up for human beings the possibility of living according to the will of God and may preserve them in this way from sins.37 Given the fact that 1.21 forms the basis of 2.6 and that 2.6 is at the same time developed by 4.23, we must add that the military connotation that the talk of David’s “shepherding” has in 2 Sam 5.2 (this is different, however, in Ps 78.71–­72)38 plays no role at all in Matthew. In the Matthean narrative conception the activity of Jesus finds its continuation in the sending out of his disciples. What Matt 15.24 says with respect to Jesus’ sending finds its exact counterpart in the fact that—­until Easter—­the commission of the disciples is also related exclusively to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (10.5–­6). The evangelist had already taken up the shepherd-­flock metaphor in the immediately preceding context of 10.6, namely, in 9.36, where the sending of the disciples is anchored in Jesus’ compassion for the “harassed” and “languishing” crowds,39 who are like sheep “who do not have a shepherd.” It follows from 2.6 (and 15.24), as an implication of the talk of πρόβατα μὴ ἔχοντα ποιμένα, that Jesus has mercy on the crowds as the messianic shepherd of Israel. He lets his disciples participate with their sending out to the lost sheep of the house of Israel in his messianic office of shepherd. It corresponds compositionally to this that the mission discourse in Matt 10—­after the (exemplary) portrayal of the activity of Jesus in his authoritative teaching (5.1–­7.28) and in his authoritative action (8.1–­9.34), which is framed by the two summaries 36 Cf. Novakovic 2003, 73, who infers on the basis of Matt 9.2–­8 that “it is therefore highly likely that Jesus’ healing ministry is viewed by Matthew as saving his people from their sins.” See also Beauchamp 1988, 23–­24; Landmesser 2001, 138–­39; Beaton 2002, 115–­16 (in the framework of the interpretation of Matt 8.17). By contrast, P. Fiedler 2006, 215 denies a “causal linkage between sin and sickness” in Matt 9.2–­8. 37 On this, cf. Blanton 2013, esp. 410–­11. 38 On this, see Hunziker-­Rodewald 2001, 47–­50. 39 For the mercy of Jesus with his people as an important Matthean motif, see Duling 1992, 112–­13; Konradt 2014b, 39–­40 (GV = 2007, 42); Baxter 2012, 141–­42. See also chapter 6 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 413–­41).



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in 4.23 and 9.35—­inaugurates,40 “as it were, the ecclesiological continuation of Jesus’ activity.”41 In the activity of the disciples the messianic turning of the shepherd of Israel to his flock is meant to be continued through the healing of the sick, the proclamation of the message of the near kingdom (10.7–­8), and the forgiveness of sins (cf. 9.842)—­in short, through the turning to the ‘lost sheep.’43 In addition to the aspect that the disciples are placed into the service of the messianic turning of the shepherd of Israel to his flock, it is necessary to mention, as another fundamental element of the presentation of Jesus as the messianic shepherd, the firm opposition to Jesus from the (previous) authorities in Israel. This aspect is also already introduced in Matt 2 with the role of Herod and the high priests and scribes who collaborate with him. Matt 2 displays in this context an intentional ‘play’ with the use of the title of king. Not only is Jesus designated as βασιλεύς by the magi (2.2), but Herod is also designated as such by the narrator (2.1, 3, 9), though not after 2.9. This means that after the magi have paid homage to the “one born king of the Jews,” the title of king is absent when Herod is mentioned.44 Rather than being accidental, this is intended to indicate that Jesus is now the true king of Israel.45 40 This aspect is underlined by the transfer of authority depicted in Matt 10.1 (cf. Mark 3.15; 6.7; Luke 9.1), with a direct reference being made back to the summaries in Matt 4.23; 9.35 through the Matthean addition of θεραπεύειν πᾶσαν νόσον καὶ πᾶσαν μαλακίαν. Moreover, the commission to proclaim that is issued to the disciples in the sending out (10.7)—­with the exception of the omission of the call to repentance—­is configured in a parallel manner to 3.2 and 4.17, and the commission to heal that follows in 10.8, which is expanded to a four-­membered series of imperatives (cf. Mark 3.15; 6.13), is reminiscent of Jesus’ own deeds narrated in Matt 8–­9. 41 Luz 2007, 10 (GV = 2002a, 34). Cf. Luz 2001, 63 (GV = 1990, 79). See further, e.g., Minear 1974, 34, 42; Weaver 1990, 75–­82, 84–­85; Lohmeyer 1995, 365, 367, 374, 378. 42 There is a broad consensus that Matthew, in having the crowds praise God as the one who has given human beings authority (to forgive sins) in Matt 9.8, looks, beyond the authority of Jesus to forgive sins (9.2–­7), ahead to the corresponding authority of the community. 43 Cf.—­with a view to the compositional placement of the mission discourse—­the fitting remark of Weaver 1990, 73: “The narrator wishes the implied reader to interpret the ministry to which Jesus commissions his disciples (10.5b–­42) as not merely parallel to, but rather an integral part of, the ministry of Jesus himself.” On the disciples as the new ‘shepherds of Israel,’ cf. McKnight 1986, esp. 183–­85; Chae 2006, 145–­47, though Chae stresses that the shepherd title is not transferred to the disciples but remains reserved for Jesus (on this, see also 170–­71, 181–­82). The fact that caring for an errant sheep comes into view as a task of the disciples in 18.12–­14 stands, however, against this clear distinction. 44 See Matt 2.12, 13, 15, 16, 19, 22. 45 Cf. Nolan 1979, 39: “The omission of the title suggests that the kingship has returned to lowly Bethlehem at 2:11. The indubitable irony surrounding the act of homage in 2:2, 8, 11 favours the detection of significance in the absence of ‘king’ as the action progresses.”

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Herod then also perceives Jesus as a competitor who endangers his position.46 With his question about the birthplace of the Christ (2.4) he reveals that he has understood who is in view,47 as have the high priests and the scribes with their answer (2.5–­6). Henceforth, the task of shepherding the people of God is assigned to the messianic king. Herod and the Jewish authorities should have subordinated themselves to him.48 This, however, does not occur. Rather, Herod, assisted by the high priests and scribes, attempts—­first with guile, namely, by seeking to instrumentalize the magi for his purposes (2.7–­8), and then with an extremely brutal action, namely, by murdering all the children who were two years or younger in the region of Bethlehem (2.16–­18)—­to kill the messianic king. Jesus, however, is saved by the intervention of God. Viewed in the overall context of the Gospel, this futile attempt of Herod can be read as an anticipation of the opposition of the Jewish authorities (who are already incorporated in Matt 2) against Jesus, which culminates in the crucifixion of Jesus. They also seek to assert their position through their action against Jesus. And their attempt also ultimately founders through the intervention of God, who raises the crucified one49 and installs him as the universal ruler who is seated at his right hand (22.44; 26.64) and equipped with universal authority (28.18) and who carries out his reign by sending out his disciples to teach people to keep all that he commanded them.50 If the significance of the theme of conflict, into which the presentation of Jesus as the shepherd of Jesus is embedded,51 is taken into account, then it becomes clear why Matthew emphasizes so strongly the desolate situation of the “sheep”—­ they are “lost” (ἀπολωλότα, 10.6; 15.24), “harassed” (ἐσκυλμένοι), and “languishing” (ἐρριμμένοι), and they “have no shepherd” (μὴ ἔχοντα ποιμένα, 9.36). These attributes clearly bear a polemical character in relation to the authorities. This surfaces with 46

1998, 30. 47

Cf. Davies/Allison 1988, 238; Gundry 1994, 26; D. R. Bauer 1995, 314; Gielen

Cf. Gielen 1998, 30. This is not changed at all by the fact that Matthew does not portray Jesus in the colors of a political ruler. 49 Cf. the reflection on the futile action of the authorities against Jesus in the parable of the wicked tenants in Matt 21.33–­46 (see esp. vv. 37–­42). 50 Cf. the interpretation of the “kingdom of the Son of Man” in 13.41 by Luz 2001, 269 (GV = 1990, 341): “It is the reign of the exalted one over heaven and earth that he now makes visible primarily through the proclamation and the life of the disicples (28:16–­20!).” On the understanding of the rule of the exalted one in the sense presented above, see further Theißen 1999, 164: “A whole new kind of universal rule is announced here, a universal rule through ethical commandments” (see also Backhaus 2004, 91). 51 The efforts of the authorities to suppress the knowledge of Jesus as “Son of David” that is emerging among the people can be placed here. See Matt 12.23–­24 and 21.15–­16, and on this Verseput 1987, 535–­36; Stanton 1992c, 108–­12; Konradt 2014b, 114–­15, 123–­25, 135–­36 (GV = 2007, 123–­24, 133–­35, 146–­47). 48



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special clarity when the statements are read in the light of prophetic criticism of the authorities as bad ‘shepherds,’52 as we find this especially in Jer 23.1–­4 and Ezek 34.53 Jer 23.1 accuses the shepherds of scattering and destroying the sheep of the pasture of God (LXX: ὦ οἱ ποιμένες οἱ διασκορπίζοντες καὶ ἀπολλύοντες τὰ πρόβατα τῆς νομῆς μου). Ἀπολλύοντες finds a counterpart in Jer 27.6LXX (50.6MT) in the talk of the πρόβατα ἀπολωλότα, who were led astray by their shepherds. Among other things, Ezek 34 accuses the bad shepherds of Israel, who have fed only themselves, of having not sought what had gone lost (τὸ ἀπολωλὸς οὐκ ἐζητήσατε). If one considers how intensively the First Evangelist has reflected upon his story of Jesus in the light of scripture in general,54 then it is natural to see his own talk of τὰ πρόβατα τὰ ἀπολωλότα οἴκου Ἰσραήλ (Matt 10.6; 15.24) as inspired by these prophetic accusations55 and thus to hear in it the criticism—­which is typical for the Gospel of Matthew as a whole—­of the authorities of Israel,56 who, as “blind guides” (15.14; 23.16, 24) and “hypocrites,”57 lead the people to ruin. With the criticism of the authorities that can be heard in the talk of the “sheep who have no shepherd” (9.36), Matthew also makes recourse to a motif that occurs in Old Testament and early Jewish tradition58 and is found, among other places, again in Ezek 34 (vv. 5, 8). Here, Ezek 34.5, 8 shows clearly that 52

For the prophetic shepherd criticism, see Hunziker-­Rodewald 2001, 50–­62. On the central significance of Ezek 34 as a reference text for the First Evangelist, see Heil 1993 and Baxter 2006, esp. 43–­45; as well as Chae 2006, 205–­19. See also Martin 1975, 275, 282–­83, 298. This thesis finds confirmation through the Matthean version of the parable of the lost sheep in Matt 18.12–­14 (on this, see Luz 2001, 433, with n56 [GV = 1997, 32, with n56]). It is also worth mentioning that the insertion of τῆς ποίμνης in the quotation from Zech 13.7 in Matt 26.31 must be identified as an allusion to Ezek 34.31 (cf. Gundry 1967, 27; Willitts 2007, 146–­47). Verseput 1995, 112 points equally to Ezek 34 and Jer 23.1–­3. For an analysis of the motif of the Davidic shepherd in Ezek 34–­37, see Block 1995, 172–­83; Chae 2006, 38–­76. 54 This reflection has expressed itself not only in the well-­known phenomenon of the so-­called reflection or fulfillment quotations (Matt 1.22–­23; 2.15, 17–­18, 23; 4.14–­16; 8.17; 12.17–­21; 13.35; 21.4–­5; 27.9–­10), with which the evangelist presents the way and activity of Jesus as the fulfillment of the promises of scripture and thus seeks to show that Jesus is, in fact, the messiah expected in Israel’s hopes for salvation; rather, these quotations are only an especially conspicuous expression of the relevance that scripture has in the Matthean story of Jesus in general (cf., e.g., Senior 1997, 90, 104–­8; Hays 2005, 168–­69). 55 On Jer 27.6LXX, cf., e.g., Gundry 1994, 184. On Ezek 34, cf. Martin 1975, 278; Chae 2006, 214–­29; Baxter 2006, 44, with n29. 56 For the negative characterization of the authorities in the Gospel, see, among others, Van Tilborg 1972; Saldarini 1994, 44–­67; Repschinski 2000, esp. 322–­27; Konradt 2014b, 101–­66 (GV = 2007, 108–­80). 57 See Matt 15.7; 22.18; 23.13, 15, 23, 25, 27, 29; as well as 6.2, 5, 16 (on Matt 6.1–­18, see, e.g., Van Tilborg 1972, 8, 17; and Anderson 1994, 103–­4). 58 Num 27.17 (cf. Philo, Agr. 44; Virt. 58); 1 Kgs 22.17 = 2 Chr 18.16; Isa 13.14; Ezek 34.5, 8; Zech 10.2; (11.17); Jdt 11.19. 53

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the talk of the lack of a shepherd in no way means that there is an actual vacancy.59 Rather, the focus is on the fact that the shepherds of the people have not carried out their commission.60 In Jer 23.1–­4 accusations and declarations of judgment against the shepherds (vv. 1–­2; cf. 50.6) are connected with the announcement that God himself gathers the remnant of his sheep (cf. 31.10) and gives it new shepherds (23.3–­4; cf. 3.15). Jer 23.5–­6 then focuses the announcement of salvation on the kingly reign of a righteous shoot of David (cf. Jer 30.9; 33.14–­17). Ezek 34 displays an analogous structure to Jer 23.1–­6, except that the individual elements are developed more broadly there. The shepherds are accused of living well off the flock but not caring for the sheep (v. 3). The weak were not strengthened, the sick were not healed, and so on (v. 4). And since the flock was de facto without a shepherd, the sheep became “food for all the animals of the field” (v. 5). The announcement of judgment (vv. 7–­10) speaks concretely of the removal of the shepherds from their function: “See, I am against the shepherds, and I demand my sheep from their hand and ensure that they no longer feed the sheep” (v. 10). The announcement of salvation (vv. 11–­31) is then also elaborated in detail: God himself will gather his flock, will feed the sheep (vv. 11–­16), and will bring about justice between the fat and the lean sheep (vv. 17–­22). Analogous to Jer 23.5–­6, Ezek 34.23 focuses the announcement of salvation on the new David, but now the shepherd metaphor is also explicitly applied to him: “And I will place over them one shepherd and he will feed them, my servant David, he will feed them, and he will be a shepherd to them” (cf. 37.24 as well as [Mic 5.3]; Pss. Sol. 17.4061). Thus, the bad shepherds are replaced by the Davidic messiah as shepherd. While Ezek 34.23–­31 emphasizes the blessing that comes to the people under the Davidic-­messianic shepherd, in 37.24 it finally comes to the fore that “they will live according to my ordinances and keep my statues and act according to them.” The above thesis that the emphasis on the desolate situation of the ‘sheep’ is inspired by the prophetic criticism of the bad ‘shepherds’ can now be supplemented: The Gospel of Matthew displays an analogous overall configuration to Jer 23.1–­6 and above all Ezek 34. Due to the 59 In addition to Ezek 34.5, 8, see also Zech 10.2–­3 (MT). The shepherd metaphor does not, however, appear in the LXX version of Zech 10.2–­3 (on this, cf. below). Ham 2005, 86–­87, argues against a reference to Zech 10.2 in Matt 9.36. 60 Cf. Baxter 2006, 39. Gundry 1967, 32 also regards ἐσκυλμένοι καὶ ἐρριμμένοι as an allusion to Ezek 34.5 (in this sense, see also Willitts 2007, 124). 61 In Pss. Sol. 17 the hope for the coming of the Davidic messiah (vv. 21ff.) is also expressed against the background of the failure of the ruling stratum (v. 20). On the influence of Ezek 34 on Pss. Sol. 17, see Manning 2004, 92–­93, 95–­96.



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failure of their ruling stratum,62 which only looks after its own interests, the crowds are like lost, shepherdless sheep who are harassed and languishing. But God now turns to them through Jesus as the messianic shepherd who places his disciples in his service of merciful turning to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. It is implied therein that God replaces the previous authorities as shepherds of the people through Jesus and the disciples commissioned by him.63 The bitter opposition of the leadership stratum against Jesus appears in this context as a (­futile) ­attempt to assert the inherited position. Put concisely, Matthew narrates the fulfillment of Jer 23.1–­6 and Ezek 34. 3. “I will strengthen the sick” (Ezek 34.16): The Davidic Messiah as Healer Within the framework of his presentation of the merciful turning of Jesus to Israel, Matthew gives a prominent place to the healing action of the messiah.64 Here it is conspicuous that he has consistently connected the Son of David title with healings.65 In Matthew, the υἱὸς Δαυίδ is a healing messiah.66 Here, the special role that healings of blind persons play in the context of the talk of Jesus as ‘Son of David’ merits attention. This connection was given to Matthew in his Markan Vorlage in the story of the healing of blind 62 For the distinction between crowds and authorities in the Gospel of Matthew, see Cousland 2002, passim; Konradt 2014b, 89–­101 (GV = 2007, esp. 96–­108). See now also Konradt 2020c. 63 With regard to the situation of the addressees, the competing claims to leadership of Matthean ecclesia and Pharisaically dominated synagogue are reflected therein. On this, see the fundamental studies of Overman 1990, 141–­49; and Saldarini 1994, esp. 11–­67, 107–­20. 64 As the summary in 4.23 emphatically speaks of the fact that Jesus healed every sickness and every weakness ἐν τῷ λαῷ (cf. 9.35, with respect to the disciples in 10.1), so Matthew, before he presents the teaching of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5–­7), first highlights Jesus’ healing of the sick in 4.24. In Matthew mass healings precede each of the two feeding stories (14.14; 15.30). And in 14.14, Matthew has replaced the Markan talk of Jesus’ teaching (Mark 6.34) with a reference to his healing action, a change that is repeated in Matt 19.2 par. Mark 10.1. Finally, the healings in the temple in Matt 21.14 are a redactional insertion of the First Evangelist. On the redactional emphasis on the healings as an expression of the turning of Jesus to the crowds, cf. Cousland 2002, 108–­17. 65 On this, see especially Novakovic 2003. See further Duling 1978; Paffenroth 1999, 551–­54; Cousland 2002, 194–­91; Chae 2006, 279–­324. 66 The emphasis—­presumably inspired by Mark 10.47—­that Matthew has placed on the invocation of Jesus as “Son of David” is conspicuous. When Jesus is supplicated for mercy as Son of David, this is always strengthened with κράζειν (Matt 9.27; 15.22; 20.30, 31). Moreover, the cries of acclamation in 21.9, 15 are characterized in a corresponding manner (cf. Mark 11.9). By contrast, κράζειν is lacking in the context of the petition for mercy in Matt 17.15, where the Son of David address does not occur.

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Bartimaeus (Mark 10.46–­52). The First Evangelist has not only reworked this pericope in Matt 20.29–­34, but he has also duplicated it in 9.27–­31. Matt 21.14–­15 is redactional in its entirety. After healings of the blind and the lame in the temple (v. 14), children take up the cry of acclamation “Hosannah to the Son of David” (v. 15) with which the crowds had previously greeted the meek messianic king as he entered Jerusalem in 21.9, with 21.9 being connected in the context with the healing of the blind in 20.29–­34. Finally, 12.22–­23 is also instructive. The possessed man, after whose healing Matthew has the ὄχλοι ponder whether Jesus might be the Son of David, is not only mute, as he is in Q/Luke 11.14, but also blind. This is all the more conspicuous since Matthew, in his first reception of Q 11.14 in Matt 9.32, left it as κωφός in the characterization of the possessed man. For this reason, it is natural to assume that the redactional expansion of the specification of the sickness in 12.22, on the one hand, and the insertion of the motif of Davidic sonship in 12.23, on the other hand, must be viewed as materially connected. This gains sharper contours if we incorporate the metaphorical use of τυφλός in 15.14; 23.16, 17, 19, 24, 26, which refers exclusively to Pharisees and scribes in Matthew. If the healing stories are read in this light, the variously advocated thesis that the healing stories are also concerned with the healing of Israel’s blindness in a metaphorical sense67 (cf., among others, Ps 145.8LXX; Targum Isa 35.5) appears plausible. More specifically, they are healed from the blindness caused by the blind leaders, the Pharisees and scribes. Thus, Jesus’ teaching is in view, with which he opens the crowds’ eyes to the true will of God. What was said above about Matt 1.21 as the basis of 4.23 can be repeated here. Here it also becomes clear that the significance of the christologoumenon of the Davidic sonship of Jesus cannot be narrowly restricted, as is sometimes done, to Jesus’ healing activity in a purely physical sense,68 as it would, in any case, be methodologically questionable to consider the use of the title “Son of David” in isolation from the shepherd metaphor, the talk of Jesus as “king of the Jews” (Matt 2.2; 27.11, 29, 37) or “king of Israel” (Matt 27.42; see also 21.5), and from the use of “Christ” (Matt 1.1[–­17]; 2.4; 11.2), which refers to the Davidic-­royal messiah. The use of the Son of David title in Matthew 67

Cf. Gibbs 1963/1964, 451–­53, 458, 460; Suhl 1968, 80–­81; Luz 2005b, 87 (GV = 1991, 225); Novakovic 1997, 164. 68 See especially the tendency in Kingsbury 1976, where the observation that the Son of David title in Matthew has with the healing action of Jesus a limited field of application (592–­93) is connected with the firm devaluation of the significance of the Davidic sonship of Jesus in the overall context of the Matthean Christology. The close connection of Davidic sonship with healings is noted in general, but this does not necessarily go hand in hand—­as it does in Kingsbury—­with a firm devaluation of the significance of the title (cf. esp. Novakovic 2003, passim).



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is part of a more comprehensive christological conception in which the concern is centrally with the fulfillment of the salvific promises given to Israel, and it obtains its weight on the basis of this comprehensive conception. This more comprehensive context of meaning is clearly presupposed in the introduction of the Son of David title in Matt 1.1. For with the juxtaposition of “Son of David” and “Son of Abraham,” Matthew lets the two salvation-­historical horizons of his story of Jesus be heard. While the Davidic sonship is connected with the fulfillment of the salvific promises given to Israel, with the talk of Jesus’ Abrahamic sonship the evangelist makes a reference to the universality of salvation.69 Thus, in a certain respect, Matt 1.1 contains “the whole Gospel of Matthew in nuce.”70 Putting it the other way around, the fact that Matthew sets forth this salvation historical theme already in 1.1 indicates its centrality for the Matthean retelling of the story of Jesus and points thereby to the fact that the talk of the Davidic sonship condenses in a title a fundamental theme of the Matthean story of Jesus. The fact that Matthew has nevertheless never directly connected the use of the Son of David title with Jesus’ teaching but presented the Son of David precisely as a healer can be explained conceptually with reference to the fact that with the christological motif that with Jesus the messianic Son of David promised to Israel has come, Matthew wanted to emphasize the gracious turning of God to his people. Or, put differently, the Son of David title, as this is taken into view in the metaphorical implications of the healing stories, can be connected to the teaching only insofar as this teaching—­through the disclosure of the previously concealed will of God—­is part of the divine initiative of salvation with which God gathers to himself the shepherdless, languishing people (9.36). Thus, the concentration of the use of the Son of David title on Jesus’ healing action is not to be read as a restriction of the significance of the christologoumenon of the Davidic sonship of Jesus. On the contrary, it can be clarified through the fact that in the Matthean development of this motif—­especially through the reception of the shepherd metaphor with its emphasis on the care of God—­the aspect of the merciful turning of God to his people in the realization of the promises of salvation given to Israel in scripture stands at the center. The story of the healing of the daughter of the Canaanite woman in Matt 15.21–­28 constitutes an exception to the connection of the Son of David title with healings of the blind. This exception is scarcely accidental. The motif of the “blindness” triggered by the authorities is related to 69

For justification of this interpretation, see Konradt 2014b, 265–­68 (GV = 2007,

70

Frankemölle 1984, 318.

286–­88).

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Israel in Matthew. The redactional use of the Son of David title in 15.22 in the Canaanite woman’s petition for mercy for her sick daughter stands in a different context of meaning. Through the replacement of Ἑλληνίς, Συροφοινίκισσα τῷ γένει (Mark 7.26) with Χαναναία (Matt 15.22), Matthew has painted the story with biblical colors71 and provided an impulse for reading what follows against the background of the classic opposition between Israel and Canaan.72 The Matthean Jesus resolutely rebuffs the woman.73 He is overcome only through her argument in v. 27. Through the addition of ναί before κύριε, Matthew has the Canaanite woman initially explicitly confirm that it is not good to take away salvation from Israel in favor of the ‘gentiles,’ but without harming the provision for the children something nevertheless falls for the dogs.74 Thus, the woman accepts, on the one hand, the difference between Israel and the nations, but points, on the other hand, to the fact that the salvation brought by Jesus reaches beyond Israel. In this way, she anticipates the universality of the salvific turning that Jesus himself will announce only after his resurrection and exaltation to universal Lord, and she reconciles this in her argument, at the same time, with the salvation historical status quo of the absolute difference between Jews and ‘gentiles’ that before Easter is still in force. In other words, her faith (15.28) anticipates the ultimate goal of the sending of Jesus.75 The fact that Matthew has the woman invoke Jesus as Lord and Son of David in 15.22 must be placed in this context. In the Matthean conception, the salvific turning to the nations (28.19) is not, as has often been postulated, a response to the supposedly collective (or at least far-­reaching) rejection in Israel,76 but rather is positively con71 On this, see, further, the supplementation of Tyre (Mark 7.24) with Sidon in Matt 15.21 (cf. Isa 23.1–­18; Jer 25.22; 27.3; 47.4; Ezek 26–­28; Joel 4.4; Zech 9.2–­4; see further Jdt 2.28; 1 Macc 5.15; Eupolemus, Frag. 2B [in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.33.1; 9.34.4]). 72 See Gen 9.25–­27; 24.3, 37; 28.1–­8; Exod 23.23, 28; 33.2; 34.11; Lev 18.3; Num 33.51–­52; Deut 20.17; Josh 3.10; 24.11; Judg 1.1ff.; Ps 106.38; Ezra 9.1; and elsewhere. 73 Jesus initially does not react at all to the Canaanite woman’s petition for help for her demonically possessed daughter (vv. 22–­23a) and then responds to the desire of the disciples to send the woman away (for this interpretation of ἀπόλυσον αὐτήν, see, e.g., Luz 2001, 339 [GV = 1990, 429, 434]; Nolland 2005, 633; Neyrey 1981, 375; it is interpreted differently, namely, as an exhortation to comply with the petition of the woman, by Légasse 1972, 28; Meier 1986, 398; Wilk 2002, 145) by saying that he was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. When the woman comes closer and falls before Jesus (as already previously in 15.22 [ἔκραζεν], Matthew uses the imperfect [προσεκύνει] in v. 25 to indicate the persistence of the woman), Jesus continues to rebuff her (v. 26). 74 In the context, this can be illustrated through the feeding narrative in 14.13–­21. After the feeding of the five thousand, an abundance is left over with twelve baskets full of bread (cf. Scott 1996, 40). See also 15.37 (on this, see Keener 1999, 419). 75 On Matthew’s understanding of faith in general and the notion of “great faith” in particular, see Konradt 2016, 261–­87. 76 A different position is taken by Luz 2007, 50 (GV = 2002a, 92): “The Gospel of Matthew tells how it happened that in the end the greatest portion of Israel rejects Jesus (cf.



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nected to the salvific turning to Israel.77 While the universality of salvation grounded in Jesus’ death and resurrection is the goal of the story of Jesus that fulfills all the promises of salvation in scripture, for the evangelist the only way to this goal is via the prior turning of Jesus to Israel. The placement of “Son of David” before “Son of Abraham” in Matt 1.1, which is conspicuous from a chronological perspective, can be read as a pointer to this connection. The fulfillment of the promises given to Israel through the turning of God to his people in the figure of the Davidic messiah precedes the fulfillment of the promise to Abraham, which includes the nations, not only ‘temporally,’ but also materially. Only in this way can the promise to Abraham, the founding father of Israel and father of proselytes (cf. Philo, Virt. 219) be fulfilled. By having the Canaanite woman speak of Jesus as Son of David (Matt 15.22), Matthew highlights the fact that she expects her salvation from Jesus as the messiah of Israel. Or, put differently, she has recognized that Jesus, as the messiah of Israel and only as such (!), will also be the one who brings salvation to the nations. As is well known, in comparison to the expectation of the Davidic messiah, as we encounter it in the Qumran texts78 and in Pss. Sol. 17, where the Davidic messiah bears traits that are clearly militaristic,79 28:11–­15). The risen Lord responds to this rejection by commanding the disciples to make disciples of ‘all nations’ (28:16–­20).” See further, e.g., Meier 1979, 180. 77 For detailed justification of this thesis, see Konradt 2014b (GV = 2007). 78 In the Qumran texts, in addition to the talk of the messiah related to the expected Davidic ruler in 4Q252 5.3 (in 4Q521 Frag. 2 2.1, a reference to the Davidic messiah is possible but uncertain), reference must also be made to the talk of the “Anointed of Aaron and of Israel” in 1QS 9.11 (singular [possibly to be understood distributively; cf. Schreiber 2000, 202–­3] in CD 12.23–­13.1; [14.19]; 19.10–­11; 20.1; see further the talk of the messiah [of Israel] in 1QSa 2.12, 14, 20). But especially with respect to the expectation of a Davidic messiah, other designations must also be drawn upon. This includes, first, the talk of the “shoot of David (‫ ”)צמח דויד‬inspired by Jer 23.5; 33.15 (4Q161 Frag. 8–­10 15, 22; 4Q174 Frag 1i+21+2 [3.]11; 4Q252 5.3–­4 [alongside “messiah”]; 4Q285 Frag. 5 3–­4; see also Sir 51.12h [on this, cf. Ps 132.17] as well as Zech 3.8; 6.12; T. Jud. 24.5). Second, as shown by the juxtaposition of “shoot of David” and “prince of the community (‫ ”)נׂשיא העדה‬in 4Q285 Frag. 5 3–­4, texts in which there is talk of ‫( נׂשיא‬cf. Ezek 34.24; 37.25!) must also be considered here (see, in addition to the attestations that have already been mentioned, CD 7.20 as well as 1QSb 5.20–­21, where the Davidic connection would be explicitly made if the textual supplementation of Stegemann 1996, 499 were to be followed, who proposes ‫ וברית ד[ו]יד‬for line 21, according to which there would be talk there of the renewal of the covenant of David by God in order to establish the royal rule of his people [affirmed by Zimmermann 1998, 53–­54, 55; Schreiber 2000, 217–­18]). For an overview of the attestations, see the table in Zimmermann 1998, 126. 79 This also applies to Pss. Sol. 17 (for this view, see also, e.g., Collins 1995, 54; Strauss 1995, 41–­42; Knibb 1995, 169; Schreiber 2000, [9], 170–­72; Pietsch 2003, 244. A different position is taken by Pomykala 1995, 162; Laato 1997, 281–­82; Charlesworth 1999, 31): the Davidic messiah crushes unrighteous rulers (v. 22), drives out sinners from the inheritance (v. 23a), smashes the arrogance of sinners like a potter’s jar and all their substance with an iron rod (vv. 23b, 24a; cf. Ps 2.9), and destroys the unlawful gentiles with

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the Matthean presentation of the messianic Son of David sets a distinct, indeed an idiosyncratic accent. In the early Jewish texts that we know, the Davidic messiah is never distinguished by healings.80 This does not mean, however, that Matthew has conceptualized here in complete independence from Old Testament and early Jewish traditions or that he was inspired exclusively by the linking of the invocation of Jesus as Son of David with a healing in Mark 10.46–­52. While one cannot credit the early Jewish tradition of Solomon as healer and exorcist81 with a decisive influence on the evangelist,82 since Matthew does not exhibit any specific characteristics of Solomonic healing practices,83 the significance that the motif of the healing Son of David has in Matthew can nevertheless be made comprehensible in the context of the reception of Old Testament and early Jewish expectations of salvation.84 As the pericope Q 7.18–­23, taken up in Matt 11.2–­6, shows, already in the early Christian tradition prior to Matthew, the healing activity of Jesus was set in relation to Old Testament promises of salvation in which the removal of physical afflictions belongs to the characteristics of the time of salvation promised to Israel, namely, to promises of salvation from Isaiah (Isa [26.19]; 29.18–­19; 35.5–­6; 61.1).85 While a connection to the figure of the messiah is lacking in the Isaiah texts, in the early Christian the word of his mouth (v. 24b; see also vv. 35a, 36b; cf. Isa 11.4). See further 1QSb 5.24–­29 (again with reception, among others, of Isa 11.4 and Ps 2.9); 1QM 5.1–­2; 4Q161 Frag. 8–­10 23, 25–­26; 4Q285 Frag. 5 3–­4 (Isa 11.4 also stands in the background here); Frag. 6+4; see also CD 7.19–­21; 4Q376 Frag 1 3.1–­3 as well as 4 Ezra 12.31–­34 (cf. 13.25–­38, 49). On Qumran, see the summary of Zimmermann 1998, 94: “4Q161, 1QSb 5.20–­22 and 4Q285 are . . . the most important attestations for the linking of Isa 11 with the ‘princes’ as military-­political rulers in the end-­time and in the eschatological battle, who for the Qumran-­community was at the same time the expected Davidic king.” 80 Cf. for many Broer 1992, 1261; Karrer 1991, 323; Niebuhr 1997, 640–­41. A different position is taken by Chae 2006, 292–­96. 81 In addition to T. Sol. and the Aramaic invocation texts (on this, see Fisher 1968, 83–­88), see, in early Jewish sources, Wis 7.20; Josephus, Ant. 8.46–­49; LAB 60.3. On this tradition, cf. Duling 1975, 237–­49; Charlesworth 1996, 136–­43; Torijano 2002, 41–­105; Novakovic 2003, 97–­103; Dvořáček 2016, 33–­63. 82 See also, e.g., Cousland 2002, 185–­87; Novakovic 2003, 103–­9, 122–­23; Baxter 2006, 47–­48; Chae 2006, 288–­91. 83 In addition, the designation of the healing Solomon as Son of David appears only in T. Sol. 1.7; 20.1 (but cf. already 1 Kgs 2.46; 1 Chr 29.22; 2 Chr 1.1; 13.6; 30.26; 35.3; Prov 1.1; Eccl 1.1; [Sir 47.12]) and this does not have a titular sense. Furthermore, it must be assumed that the influence of the New Testament texts is present here (cf. Duling 1975, 243, 249). Here, it must also be noted that David himself as psalmist, in connection with 1 Sam 16.14–­23, was credited with the ability to drive out evil spirits (LAB 60.2–­3; 11Q5 27.9–­10; on this, see Karrer 2003, 337). 84 In this sense, see also Novakovic 2003, 124–­84. Cf. also Cousland 2002, 114–­17. 85 On this, see the Synoptic presentation of Matt 11.5 and the Isaiah texts quoted by Novakovic 2003, 160.



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reception this could be brought in without further ado on the basis of the presupposed confession of Christ. It must also be noted that in early Jewish texts, the removal of sicknesses or healing occurs at least sporadically as marks of the time of salvation associated with the activity of the messiah (2 Bar. [29.7]; 73.2; 4Q521 Frag. 2 286).87 The connections between 4Q521 and Q 7.18–­23 are so close that it is plausible to assume that 4Q521 must be read as a witness to a tradition that is taken up in Q 7.22.88 While the healings are not performed by the messiah89 in 4Q521,90 what was just said about the reception of the Isaiah texts nevertheless applies here in an analogous way: The proprium of Q 7.18–­23 or Matt 11.2–­6, namely, that the messiah himself is the subject of the healings, results from the fact that the traditional expectations of salvation were interpreted in the light of the existing tradition of Jesus’ marvelous healings. Thus, it remains the case that a healing messiah is not attested in the early Jewish texts that we know, but this notion has at least a preparatory basis in some texts through the fact that the messianic time of salvation appears, among other things, as a time that is characterized by the removal of sicknesses. Matthew has reinforced the connection to Old Testament promise texts, which he found in Q 7.18–­23, through the double insertion of reflection quotations after healing summaries (8.16–­17; 12.15–­21),91 with both cases involving references to the figure of the servant of God. Above all, however, we must return to the significance of the shepherd metaphor in the Matthean presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah. In Ezek 34.4 the bad shepherds are accused of not strengthening the weak and not healing the sick. To this corresponds the promise that God as Israel’s shepherd will bind up the wounded and strengthen the sick (34.16) in the following announcement of 86

As marks of paradisaic existence in 4 Ezra 7.123; 8.53. In Jub 23.30 healing also appears as an element of end-­time salvation, but the appearance of a messiah is lacking in the hopes for salvation that come to expression in Jub 23.26–­31. 87 Cf. Novakovic 2003, 163–­83; as well as Cousland 2002, 115. 88 Cf., e.g., Collins 1994, 107: “It is quite possible that the author of the Sayings source knew 4Q521; at the least he drew on a common tradition.” 89 The singular understanding of ‫ למׁשיהו‬is the majority opinion (see, e.g., García Martínez 1993, 182–­83; Bergmeier 1995, 39; Collins 1998, 114–­15; Abegg/Evans 1998, 194; Novakovic 2003, 172). By contrast, it is interpreted as a plural by M. Becker 1997, 75–­78; Niebuhr 1997, 638. 90 See for many García Martínez 1993, 184–­85; M. Becker 1997, 90–­92. A different accent is set by Collins 1994, 100 (since God would be unusual as subject of the proclamation of good tidings [line 12], it is said to be “likely that God acts through the agency of a prophetic messiah in line 12”) and above all Loader 1993, 71. 91 In 8.16–­17 Matthew presents Jesus’ healing action as a fulfillment of Isa 53.4a. In 12.17–­21 the connection of the quotation of Isa 42.1–­4 to the healing summary in 12.15 is not as clear, but v. 20 can be related to the healings of sick persons in the context.

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salvation.92 Finally, if one draws upon Ezek 34.23, where, as we have seen, the figure of the Davidic shepherd—­as the earthly representative of God as the shepherd of Israel—­is introduced, it can be affirmed that Matthew could have viewed his conception of the healing Davidic-­messianic shepherd as anchored in scripture also in this case.93 Jesus is the messianic shepherd of Israel who seeks the lost and strengthens the sick. 4. Summary The militaristic traits that constitute an important element in the early Jewish expectation of the Davidic messiah play no role at all in the Matthean presentation of Jesus as Son of David. The Matthean presentation involves a demilitarization of the figure of the Davidic messiah and at the same time forms in this respect a contrast to David, who owed his rise to become king over Judah and Israel to his military successes.94 It is possible that Matthew may even have intentionally sought to contrast Jesus and David with the healings in the Jerusalem temple in Matt 21.14–­15. For with the combination of blind and lame in v. 14,95 which is singular in the Gospel, Matthew probably intentionally established a contrast to 2 Sam 5.6–­8.96 When David wanted to conquer Jerusalem from the Jebusites with his people, he is told that (even) the blind and lame would ward him off. After that, David gives the exhortation to strike dead the lame and blind who are hated by him, and at the end it says: “Therefore they say, ‘The blind and the lame shall not come into the house!’ ” (2 Sam 5.8). Jesus, by contrast, heals the blind and lame in the temple. It would, however, be fundamentally wrongheaded to place the Matthean presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah solely in contrast to Old Testament and early Jewish models. At its heart, Matthean Christology is characterized by the coordination of Jesus’ Davidic sonship and divine 92 The connection between shepherd motif and healings emerges even more clearly in Apocr. Ezek. Frag. 5 (OTP 1: 495). 93 Cf. Novakovic 2003, 131–­32; Baxter 2006, 36–­37, who postulates “that Matthew’s warrant for connecting Jesus’ healing activity to the Son of David title is the Davidic Shepherd of Ezekiel 34”; and Chae 2006, 5 and elsewhere, who regards Matthew’s reception of the shepherd metaphor as the key to the understanding of the connection between Davidic sonship and healings. It is also worth mentioning that in Zech 10.2LXX the reference to the lack of a shepherd is replaced or interpreted in connection with the miserable situation of the “sheep” through διότι οὐκ ἦν ἴασις. Cf. Chae 2006, 77: “The translator of the LXX equates the presence of a shepherd with the possibility of healing the oppressed and sick ones.” 94 On this, see the concise presentation of David’s rise and rule in Dietrich 2006, 130–­80. 95 While the blind and the lame are also mentioned among the persons who are healed in Matt 11.5; 15.30, 31, there they appear together with other sick persons. 96 Cf., e.g., Paffenroth 1999, 553; Deines 2005, 492n105.



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sonship, with which the evangelist takes up Old Testament statements about the divine sonship of the Davidic king in modified form. Furthermore, Matthew moves in traditional paths with the Israel-­relatedness of the activity of the Davidic messiah. The presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah is connected to the firm emphasis on Jesus’ turning to Israel and the fulfillment of the promise of salvation made to the people of God—­only this does not occur through the subjugation of the nations in the military sense. Above all, however, the Matthean presentation of Jesus as healing Davidic-­messianic shepherd is characterized by an intense dialogue with scripture. In addition to the reception of the Isaianic promises, reference had to be made especially to the connections to Ezek 34. Likewise, the—­shortened—­quotation of Zech 9.9 in Matt 21, with which Matthew presents Jesus at his entrance into Jerusalem as a meek king, can also be placed here. This results in a differentiated set of findings, which can be illustrated by way of example with the quotation in Matt 2.6. To be sure, with ὅστις ποιμανεῖ τὸν λαόν μου τὸν Ἰσραήλ Matthew takes up 2 Sam 5.2, where the military activity of David forms the context of the statement—­the tribes of Israel say to David: “Already at that time, when Saul was king over us, it was you who led Israel out and brought it back in.” But he passes over its militaristic dimension in his reception of the verse and fills the meaning of shepherding in dialogue with a text such as Ezek 34: Jesus shepherds his people Israel by seeking the lost and healing the sick. If the historical context of Matthew is included, this presentation of Jesus as the nonviolent, meek messianic shepherd from the house of David gains an even sharper profile in the face of the failed revolt against Rome in 66–­70 CE, which ended in the catastrophe of the destruction of Jerusalem.97 For with the failure of the revolt the hope for a messianic king that would liberate Israel from foreign rule simultaneously became less plausible. In this context, Matthew’s presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah points to an alternative way: the hope in the Davidic messiah has not failed; it has long been fulfilled, though admittedly in a different way than in a political-­military sense.

97

On this, cf. Theißen 1999, 158, 163–­64.

3

The Baptism of the Son of God Reflections on the Baptism of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew

The short Markan note about the baptism of Jesus (Mark 1.9) has been expanded in the Gospel of Matthew into a dialogue between the Baptist and Jesus, whose interpretation continues to be controversial. In response to the Baptist’s attempt to prevent Jesus from being baptized, Jesus reacts with the words, “Permit it now! For thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” In his large commentary on Matthew, Ulrich Luz has pointedly remarked: “Every word in Jesus’ short pronouncement is controversial.”1 This applies especially to the interpretation of δικαιοσύνη. Luz has joined the position that relates δικαιοσύνη in an ethical sense to the demand that is to be fulfilled by human beings2 and has especially rejected the interpretation that relates it to the passion3 as “a widespread eisegesis of the text.”4 Furthermore, Luz explicitly rejects the view that πᾶσα δικαιοσύνη refers specifically to Jesus: “ ‘All righteousness’ is not a special righteousness of the Son of God to be fulfilled only by Jesus; it is ‘everything that is righteous.’ ”5 To be sure, the question of why it should be God’s will that Jesus subjects himself to the baptism of John initially remains open here. Put differently, if the concern in 3.15 is with a demonstration of the obedience of Jesus, then it must be explained why Jesus 1

Luz 2007, 142 (GV = 2002a, 212). Luz 2007, 142–­43 (GV = 2002a, 212–­14). See further, e.g., Kingsbury 1975, 9; Broer 1992, 1275 (“We are dealing here with the motifs of obedience to and knowledge of the will of God”). See also Eissfeldt 1970, 213–­15. 3 See especially Cullmann 1948, 13–­14; and Schniewind 1962, 27: “The legal order of God consists in the fact that the Messiah, the God king stands by his people, that the servant of God steps in for the ‘many’ (Isa 53.12). Jesus places himself together with those who are sinners.” See also the reference to Ratzinger/Benedict XVI below. 4 Luz 2007, 143 (GV = 2002a, 214). 5 Luz 2007, 142 (GV = 2002a, 212–­13). 2

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corresponds to the divine will by letting himself be baptized if God’s will here is not to appear arbitrary or at least as not connected with a deeper meaning. This, however, is to ask whether Matt 3.15 can, in fact, be sufficiently explained without reference to a specifically christological sense. In critical dialogue with Luz, Roland Deines has insisted that the talk of the fulfillment of righteousness refers exclusively to Jesus,6 and at the same time he has called into question the ‘ethical’ interpretation of δικαιοσύνη. Instead, the righteousness fulfilled by Jesus is “the enabling of the giving of a share and the participation in the royal rule of God, because he, as Son of David, saves his people from their sins (1.21) and is ‘with them’ (1.23).”7 Insofar as the announcement in 1.21 is fundamentally realized through Jesus’ death in the Matthean conception,8 Deines is not far removed from the interpretation that connects 3.15 with the passion,9 as it has recently been developed in Joseph Ratzinger’s Jesus book.10 A consensus on the significance of the baptism of Jesus in Matt 3.13–­17 does not appear to be in sight. In an initial step, one can attempt to approach the statement of 3.15 by way of a discussion of the other uses of δικαιοσύνη in Matthew. This alone, however, does not yet allow one to gain an adequate understanding of the text, especially since we cannot, in light of the polyvalence of δικαιοσύνη or ‫ צדקה‬/ ‫ צדק‬in Old Testament tradition,11 exclude from the outset the possibility that Matthew has used δικαιοσύνη with different nuances of meaning in different texts. It is therefore necessary in a second step to discuss the meaning of the baptism of John in Matthew and finally to inquire into the christological motifs that determine the Matthean reshaping of Mark 1.9–­11. 1. Δικαιοσύνη in the Gospel of Matthew I start with a preliminary observation. The analysis of the Matthean use of δικαιοσύνη is not, on the basis of the significance that the talk of δικαιοσύνη and cognates has in (some) Pauline letters, to be burdened a priori with the view that with regard to the Matthean theology the question of 6 See Deines 2005, 132, who argues that πᾶσα δικαιοσύνη means “the righteousness of God that is to be exclusively fulfilled by Jesus” (see also pp. 255 and 439). 7 Deines 2005, 644. 8 On this, see Konradt 2014b, 48, 298–­99 (GV = 2007, 50, 320–­21). 9 See, however, the caution of Deines 2005, 129: “Nevertheless, it probably goes too far to see a certain reference to the passion already in 3.15 (though this is suggested for the—­to be presupposed—­informed reader)” (original emphasis). 10 Ratzinger 2007b, 15–­18, esp. 18 (GV = 2007a, 43–­45, esp. 45): “The whole significance of Jesus’ Baptism, the fact that he bears ‘all righteousness,’ first comes to light on the Cross: The Baptism is an acceptance of death for the sins of humanity.” 11 For this argument, cf. Meier 1976, 77; Häfner 1994, 110–­11.



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the relationship between the saving action of God and human action is centrally decided here. Put differently, if Matthew, with the talk of δικαιοσύνη, should consistently have in view the action in correspondence with the will of God that human beings are commanded to do, this would by no means necessarily imply that he does not see the doing that human beings are tasked with as embedded in a saving action of God or that he, to take up ‘classic’ vocabulary, must be classified as a representative of a pure ‘works righteousness.’ It would only say that Matthew does not make recourse to the talk of a salvation-­creating righteousness of God in order to express God’s merciful saving action. The attestations of δικαιοσύνη in Matthew are conspicuously concentrated in the Sermon on the Mount (5.6, 10, 20; 6.1, 33). Alongside these attestations, apart from 3.15, there is only the talk of the ὁδὸς δικαιοσύνης, upon which the Baptist has come, in 21.32. Since the statement of Jesus in 3.15 includes the Baptist, there arises here, in a certain way, an inclusio. In what follows, I limit myself initially to the attestations in the Sermon on the Mount. In the subsequent sections, I will then discuss 3.15 and 21.32. An ethical understanding can scarcely be contested for 5.20 and 6.1.12 Matt 6.1 speaks explicitly of doing righteousness. The same understanding is also present in 5.20, where Jesus thematizes righteousness as a presupposition for entering the kingdom. The scribes’ and Pharisees’ level of righteousness, which is based on their inadequate understanding of the will of God, is not sufficient for entering into the kingdom of heaven. A righteousness that qualifies one for this is only possible on the basis of the presentation of the will of God by Jesus. The following antitheses (5.21–­48) illustrate this by setting over against each other the scribes and Pharisees’ understanding of the Torah, which is (polemically imputed to be) merely literal or materially restrictive, and Jesus’ understanding of the Torah, which (according to the Matthean viewpoint) discloses the will of God in a fully valid way.13 The attestations of δικαιοσύνη in the fourth and eighth beatitudes (5.6, 10) signal a subdivision of the first eight macarisms into two sections.14 With this structuring function, δικαιοσύνη shows itself to be a leading word of the series of macarisms. As is well known, the macarisms in Matthew are characterized by an ethicizing tendency, though he—­as 12 This is also conceded by Hagner 1992, 111: “There is little reason to doubt that the ethical conduct of the disciples is in view in these passages.” 13 On the presupposed understanding of the antitheses, see chapter 4 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 294–­303). On the understanding of δικαιοσύνη in 5.20, cf., by way of example, Przybylski 2004, 87: δικαιοσύνη “is a term which refers to conduct according to a norm which in this case is the law.” 14 For the subdivision, see, by way of example, Giesen 1982, 84–­86; Luz 2007, 185 (GV = 2002a, 269).

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shown by 5.4—­ has not seen this through with ultimate consistency. According to Deines, those who “hunger and thirst for righteousness” has in view people “who deeply long for a righteousness whose realization does not lie in their ability but is expected wholly from God’s good will and bestowal.”15 In this view, righteousness is understood here as God’s “gift.”16 If one reads it in this way, one can think righteousness into the promissory statement—­those who long for righteousness will receive it. Such a correlation between the first part of the sentence and the second part is, however, by no means necessary,17 as other beatitudes show (see 5.3, 5, 8–­10).18 Deines has attempted to reinforce his position through the observation that in the texts in which “hunger” and “thirst” are used metaphorically in the Old Testament19 “an active effort to obtain the longed for object is never implied with the verb alone; rather, the thing that is longed for often does not stand at the disposal of humans at all.”20 However, it is not only necessary to ask whether a metaphorical usage is, in fact, present in all or even only the majority of the texts adduced by Deines.21 Above all, it must also be pointed out that in Philo there is clearly a metaphorical usage in which an active effort is implied. Thus, Philo speaks of “thirst for virtue” (δίψα ἀρετῆς, Post. 172), of those who “thirst for wisdom” (διψῶσι σοφίας, Virt. 79), and of “those who thirst and hunger for moral goodness” (τοὺς διψῶντας καὶ πεινῶντας καλοκἀγαθίας, Fug. 139).22 15

Deines 2005, 148. See further Häfner 1994, 119–­27. Deines also delineates the contours of his interpretation by postulating a reference back to 5.6 for the words of interpretation over the bread and wine in 26.26–­28 and concludes that “the promised satiation is . . . the sharing in the new covenant, in the righteousness made possible by Jesus” (p. 152). 16 Deines 2005, 149. In this vein, see also, e.g., M. J. Fiedler 1957, 114–­18 (cf. M. J. Fiedler 1977, 66); Barth 1975, 131; Meier 1976, 77–­78; Gundry 1994, 70; Hagner 1992, 112–­13. Giesen 1982, 100–­103, suggests that the gift character of righteousness is emphasized, without excluding the call to righteous action, which is said to be made possible through the righteousness that is given as a gift. 17 Moreover, even if a correlation between the first part of the sentence and the second part is assumed, i.e., even if one thinks righteousness into 5.6b, 5.6a can still be understood actively, as is shown by T. Levi 13.5. 18 Cf. Przybylski 2004, 97; Davies/Allison 1988, 452–­53. 19 Deines 2005, 139–­45 adduces Ps 106.5, 9LXX; Isa 32.6; 49.10; 65.13; Jer 38.(12), 25LXX; Sir 24.21; and Am 8.11. 20 Deines 2005, 146. 21 For reasons of space, we must forgo a discussion of this question, and we can also do so since the significance of the attestations for the understanding of Matt 5.6 must be called into question in a more important way from another angle. On this, see the argument that follows in the main text. 22 Here, reference may also be made to the text in Sir 24.21 (οἱ ἐσθίοντές με [σοφίαν] ἔτι πεινάσουσιν καὶ οἱ πίνοντές με ἔτι διψήσουσιν), which Deines 2005, 144–­45, has hardly claimed for his thesis with justification. For the longing for more, which triggers the “eating and drinking” of wisdom, expresses the fact that the student



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For this reason, semantically nothing stands in the way of the ethical interpretation of 5.6 in relation to human beings who seek after righteousness (in the sense of human behavior).23 The fourth beatitude would thus fit into the ethicizing tendency of the Matthean series of macarisms. Last but not least, this interpretation is supported by the connection to the macarism of those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness in 5.10. Against the prevalent ethical interpretation,24 Deines has objected that ethical behavior according to the standard of the Torah could not be an occasion for persecutions. Indeed, he even says that “for gentiles, too, no situation of persecution for the sake of a certain ethical behavior is conceivable—­neither from Jews nor from Romans.”25 With this postulate, however, Deines overlooks the fact that it is necessary to distinguish between text and life world, i.e., between the social situation itself and its interpretation by the harassed community (which serves certain interests related to their identity). The possibility that a community views itself as oppressed because of their ethical good behavior is exemplarily attested by 1 Peter. Here, reference may be made especially to the talk of πάσχειν διὰ δικαιοσύνην in 1 Pet 3.14, which presumably takes up Matt 5.1026 and which appears in a context that is clearly ethical in 1 Pet 3.13–­17.27 Even more importantly, the Gospel of Matthew itself reflects a sharp conflict with the Pharisees, which was also kindled—­in addition to the extent to which it was triggered by the messianic position of dignity assigned to Jesus—­by different understandings of the Torah and the different modes of behavior based upon them.28 Matt 5.10 reflects this very thing. of wisdom with his drive for knowledge never reaches an end and always produces further insights (cf. vv. 25–­34). The longing for wisdom can scarcely be separated here from the active striving for wisdom (cf. Dupont 1973, 370; Giesen 1982, 92, who says that it “demands an active collaboration [Mittun]”). See further 1QH 12[4*].11 and the other attestations in Luz 2007, 196n108 (GV = 2002a, 284n108). 23 It is also interpreted in this vein by Dupont 1973, 355–­84; Przybzlski 2004, 96–­98; Strecker 1985, 38–­39; Gnilka 1988, 124; Luz 2007, 195–­96 (GV = 2002a, 283–­84). 24 For this interpretation, see Barth 1975, 131; Przybylski 2004, 98; Strecker 1985, 45; Gnilka 1988, 127; Luz 2007, 199 (GV = 2002a, 289). By contrast, Häfner 1994, 132–­35, relates δικαιοσύνη in Matt 5.10 to the (act of holding fast to the) confession of Jesus. In that case, 5.10 would merely duplicate the beatitude in vv. 11–­12, which was already given in Q. 25 Deines 2005, 157–­58. 26 On this, see Metzner 1995, 7–­33. 27 See for many Giesen 1982, 107; Feldmeier 1992, 147n161. Contrast, however, Häfner 1994, 128–­30. 28 On this, see chapter 4 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 303–­13). By contrast, Deines 2005, 269 diagnoses a “tension that runs through the whole Gospel between Jesus and the Torah or its representatives in the form of the Pharisees and scribes.” For Matthew, however, the Pharisees and scribes are not the legitimate ‘representatives’ of the Torah. On the contrary, he repeatedly accuses them of lack of knowledge and ignorance (see esp. Matt 9.13; 12.3, 5, 7; 19.4).

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It fits with this that, according to Matthew, Jesus himself is condemned and handed over by the authorities—­who are driven by their envy (27.18)—­although they have nothing to bring against him. In the presentation of Matt 26.59–­66, the trial against Jesus is from the start a mock trial29 based on ψευδομαρτυρίαι (26.59–­61),30 with a verdict that had already been determined (26.4, 59). The Matthean picture of Jesus includes the basic feature that no accusation can justifiably be made against Jesus on the basis of the Torah. Jesus suffers inculpably (cf. 27.4), as a righteous person (27.19). Matt 23.34–­35 emphasizes that this also applies to the disciples. With the persecution of those sent by Jesus, the scribes and Pharisees fill the measure of their fathers (23.32) so that all the “righteous blood” will come over them (23.35). Finally, an interpretation of δικαιοσύνη in the sense of life conduct that corresponds to the will of God is also suggested for 6.33. This verse forms the positive counterpart to the exhortation not to let oneself be determined by anxious care for everyday things as the “gentiles” do (v. 32). Instead, the orientation to the kingdom has the highest priority for the disciples of Jesus. Analogous to ‘pagan anxious care,’ the concrete practice of life is at least also in view here. With the insertion of καὶ τὴν δικαιοσύνην into the context given by Q (see Lk/Q 12.31), Matthew highlights this very thing—­and he points back with this to the connection between δικαιοσύνη and βασιλεία that he had made in 5.20 and already prepared for through 5.6, 10. It should be a mark of the disciples that they strive for a δικαιοσύνη that far surpasses the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, by following the interpretation of the will of God by Jesus that is presented in the antitheses, which for Matthew is a fundamental component of the gospel of the kingdom (4.23) proclaimed by Jesus.31 And they should not practice this righteousness in order to appear pious before human beings (6.1); the glory belongs, rather, to God (5.16).32 With 6.33 Matthew takes up the red thread that he has woven into the Sermon on the Mount with his statements on righteousness entirely in the sense of the previous attestations. Accordingly, “God’s righteousness”33 in 6.33 does not mean his salvation-­creating activity but points to the behavior 29 Cf. Harrington 1991, 383: “From Matthew’s perspective the Jewish ‘trial’ and condemnation of Jesus were a sham based upon ‘false testimony’ (Matt 26:59).” 30 The genetivus absolutus πολλῶν προσελθόντων ψευδομαρτύρων in 26.60a should be understood concessively. The Sanhedrin does not fail—­as it does in Mark—­because it involves false witnesses but rather although the witnesses make false statements. For the interpretation of Matt 26.61, see Häfner 2010; Konradt 2020b, 403–­4 (GV = 2015a, 420–­21). 31 On the connection between εὐαγγέλιον τῆς βασιλείας and the Sermon on the Mount, see Luz 2007, 169 (GV = 2002a, 250). 32 On the relationship between 5.16 and 6.1, cf. Burchard 1998b, 44–­45. 33 The personal pronoun αὐτοῦ in 6.33 refers to God.



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demanded from human beings, which corresponds to the fellowship with God that is opened up and made possible by Jesus.34 As is the case with δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ in Jas 1.20,35 it is possible that a declaratory aspect is also to be heard here. The person who orients their life to the βασιλεία and orients themselves to what is right before God will be recognized as righteous by God. Drawing an interim conclusion, we can affirm a unified use of δικαιοσύνη for the Sermon on the Mount without further ado.36 As noted above, this does not decide the question of the extent to which, according to Matthew, the righteous action expected from human beings is to be understood as made possible by God and, at least within the framework of the messianic turning of Jesus and of the relationship to God, mediated by Jesus. However, against an optic shaped by Paul, we must insist that this theme is not addressed by means of the ‘term’ δικαιοσύνη in Matthew. The unified usage in the Sermon on the Mount can lead us to expect an analogous use in 3.15 (and 21.32), without compelling us to this conclusion. Accordingly, a discussion of the meaning that Matthew ascribes to the baptism of John and an analysis of the leading christological motifs in 3.13–­17 must be set alongside the discussion of the Matthean use of δικαιοσύνη in the Sermon on the Mount. 2. The Significance of the Baptism of John according to Matt 3.1–­12 Through the front placement and revision of Mark 1.4 in Matt 3.1–­2 with the introduction of John as ὁ βαπτιστὴς κηρύσσων ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ τῆς Ἰουδαίας καὶ λέγων· μετανοεῖτε . . . and through the insertion of Q 3.7–­9, John’s role as a preacher of repentance37 and herald of the kingdom of heaven comes to the fore in the Matthean picture of the Baptist. While Mark says that John “proclaimed the baptism of repentance for the 34 An ‘ethical’ interpretation of δικαιοσύνη in Matt 6.33 is also advocated by, e.g., Trilling 1964, 146–­47; Przybylski 2004, 89–­91; Strecker 1985, 144–­45. By contrast, δικαιοσύνη in 6.33 is understood as a gift by, e.g., M. J. Fiedler 1957, 139–­41; Meier 1976, 78; Häfner 1994, 118–­19. A mediating position is taken by, e.g., Barth 1975, 131 (“The righteousness is both at the same time—­demand and eschatological gift”); Ziesler 1972, 134–­35, 142–­43; Giesen 1982, 173–­74. Deines 2005, 446 interprets Matt 6.33 as a “call to a missionary existence.” In his view, “by the engagement for the kingdom and the righteousness that belongs to it” we are to understand “the proclamation that Jesus has transferred in a special way to his disciples as an urgent task” (pp. 444–­45 [original emphasis]). 35 On this, see Konradt 1998, 238. Cf. further 1 En. 99.10 (Gk). 36 Cf. Luz 2007, 195 (GV = 2002a, 284): “In all Matthean passages δικαιοσύνη can be understood as a human attitude or behavior; in some of them the word must be understood in this way” (original emphasis). For criticism of this view, see Häfner 1994, 111. 37 See the accurate formulation of Gnilka 1988, 65: “Everything that [John] did can be summarized in the word ‘proclaim’ (κηρύσσων).”

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forgiveness of sins” (Mark 1.2), Matthew expresses the central message of the Baptist in direct speech: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matt 3.2). As has often been noted, the words anticipate the message of Jesus, as it is summarily quoted in 4.17 and entrusted to the disciples in 10.7. Thus, they join together John, Jesus, and the disciples as proclaimers of the kingdom of heaven that has come near.38 According to Matt 3.6 (par. Mark 1.5), baptism is connected with the confession of sins. In contrast to Mark 1.4, however, Matthew does not speak of the actual forgiveness of sins here, at least not explicitly. It has often been noted that the expression εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν from Mark 1.4, which is passed over in Matt 3, is inserted by the evangelist into the saying over the cup (26.28). This is usually interpreted—­correctly in my view—­to mean that the evangelist wanted to connect the forgiveness of sins not with the baptism of John but only with the death of Jesus.39 Matthew thus presents the death of Jesus as the soteriological basic datum. The baptism by the preacher of repentance John continues to have the function of symbolizing the repentance of the person being baptized in Matt 3, with the confession of sins making explicit the turning away from their earlier existence. It fits this understanding that Matthew has added εἰς μετάνοιαν in v. 1140 and thus has the Baptist himself designate his water baptism as a baptism for repentance. From a diachronic perspective, one can hear βάπτισμα μετανοίας εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν from Mark 1.4 here; this makes the shortening to εἰς μετάνοιαν all the more conspicuous. In the context of Matt 3.2, this reinforces at the same time the impression that Matthew seeks to shift the emphasis of the baptism itself to the proclamation.41 In short, the activity of the Baptist consists centrally in admonishing human beings to repentance in light of the kingdom of heaven that has come near. By letting themselves be baptized by John they underline their readiness to repent. In light of the admonition to bear fruit that is worthy of repentance in 3.8, it is already evident that repentance indispensably includes a changed life conduct. Jesus’ statement about the Baptist in 21.32—­within the application of the parable of the two sons—­that John came ἐν ὁδῷ δικαιοσύνης can 38

Cf. the sequence in Matt 21.28–­22.14, where John (21.28–­32), Jesus (21.33–­46), and the messengers of Jesus (22.1–­ 10) are likewise connected (cf. Marguerat 1981, 280–­81). 39 See, e.g., Häfner 1994, 13, 33 (“reduction of the baptism of John to a baptism εἰς μετάνοιαν without sin-­forgiving character” [33]); Gnilka 1988, 68, 72; Davies/Allison 1988, 292; Gurtner 2007, 134. See, however, the dissenting voice of Luz 2007, 136 (GV = 2002a, 205). 40 On the question of Matthean redaction, see Häfner 1994, 43; Gnilka 1988, 64. 41 Cf. Häfner 1994, 10.



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be placed here. Read in the context of 21.23–­27, Jesus answers here the question of the origin of the baptism of John (21.25). The fact that John has come ἐν ὁδῷ δικαιοσύνης implies his own righteous conduct,42 but above all points to his message, i.e., to the fact that with his message of repentance he sought to lead human beings to righteousness,43 for the subsequent contrasting statement that the authorities, in contrast to the tax collectors and sinners, did not believe John (cf. 21.25) refers to the fact that the authorities did not comply with the Baptist’s preaching of repentance (cf. 3.2, 7–­10). 3. The Christological Motifs in Matt 3.13–­17 The scene that Matthew inserts in 3.14–­15 picks up the announcement of the “stronger one” in 3.11. The one for whom John is meant to prepare the way (v. 3), whose coming he announced and whose superordination he emphatically expressed in the words that he is not worthy to carry his shoes, now comes to him. The question—­which is usually not even posed or else answered in the affirmative without further ado—­of whether the Baptist’s attempt to prevent Jesus from being baptized presupposes the Baptist’s knowledge that Jesus is the stronger one places us before the problem of the relationship between 3.14 and 11.2–­3, where the Baptist, who has been imprisoned in the meantime, has his disciples ask Jesus, on account of the news about Jesus, whether he is the coming one. If one affirms the view that 3.14 expresses John’s knowledge that Jesus is the expected “stronger one,” then one must either assume that Matthew did not notice the tension that then emerges between 11.2–­3 and 3.14 or that he did not regard it as important; or one must postulate that John became a doubter in the meantime and on the basis of what he had heard about Jesus took a step backward from his earlier insight.44 In that case, the doubt of the Baptist could reflect a different messianic expectation that Matthew regards as errant, according to which Jesus’ healings, as amazing as they are and as much as they may point to God’s powerful intervention, are not sufficient to establish Jesus as the messiah. In discussing this question, it must, from a methodological perspective, be fundamentally observed that speculations about John as a historical person,

42

Luz 1997, 212 (cf. Luz 2005c, 31) relates the expression to the “the righteous life conduct that corresponds to the will of God.” 43 Cf. Strecker 1971, 187; Ziesler 1972, 131; Przybylski 2004, 96; Nolland 2005, 153–­54 (“His concern was . . . to call people back into a right relationship with God. Through repentance and baptism people would once again be set on the path of righteousness”). Popkes 1989, 6, thinks that “the goal of the Baptist” comes to expression in Matt 21.32 and paraphrases, “John wanted to lead you to righteousness, but you did not believe him.” 44 See, e.g., Gnilka 1988, 406; Luz 2001, 133 (GV = 1990, 167); Davies/Allison 1991, 239; Hagner 1993, 300; France 2007, 422.

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i.e., about the putative messianic expectations of the Baptist, can play no role for the clarification of the relationship between 3.14 and 11.2–­3. Rather, the concern is with John as a character in the Matthean narrative. In the context of the Matthean narrative conception, however, it is precisely not plausible to understand the news of Jesus’ miraculous deeds as triggering doubt. On the contrary, Matthew endeavors to present Jesus’ healings as a clear indication of his messiahship, which, in a process of knowledge that advances from 9.33 via 12.33 to 21.9, discloses itself in this way even to the crowds.45 Thus, it would be necessary to assume that John of all people would fall short of the crowd’s gain in knowledge. This is improbable. Put differently, in the Matthean context the narrator’s note in 11.2a that John heard of “the works of Christ (τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ)” can only be read positively as a catalyst for the question about the messianic identity of Jesus. If one does not wish to reach for the ultima ratio and attribute an incoherency in the narrative to Matthew, then one can consider whether 3.14 really implies that John has seen in Jesus the previously announced stronger one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. This is, at any rate, not stated explicitly. Initially, one can only infer from 3.14 that John evaluates Jesus as superordinated over him, without defining Jesus’ role precisely.46 In that case, 11.2–­3 would express not a germinating doubt of the Baptist but, on the contrary, an advance in knowledge. In light of the news of the activity of Jesus, he now asks whether Jesus might possibly even be the expected messiah.47 Tellingly, Jesus’ answer points him back to his works. These should speak for themselves (or for him as the messiah).

However one understands the words of the Baptist in 3.14, it must be maintained that his deflecting attitude is an expression of his knowledge of his subordinate position. He would have needed to be baptized by Jesus. While Matthew would scarcely have contradicted the conclusion that, conversely, Jesus did not need the baptism εἰς μετάνοιαν performed by John, this does not stand in the foreground here. In other words, Matthew’s theme is—­in distinction from the Gospel of the Nazarenes48—­not the sinlessness of Jesus.49 45

On this, cf. Konradt 2014b, 94–­100 (GV = 2007, 101–­7). It would be different if John, in 3.14, would not only explain that he needed to be baptized by Jesus but state more precisely that he needed to be baptized by him with the Holy Spirit (3.11). This, however, is not stated in this way. My comments in the original version of this essay were imprecise at this point (see Konradt 2008, 266–­67). 47 The scene in Matt 3.16–­17 does not stand in opposition to this construction of the narrative connection, for Matthew does not present John as a witness of the event. On this, see below. 48 See Jerome, Pelag. 3.2 (for the Latin text and an English translation, see Ehrman/ Pleše 2011, 207). 49 Cf., e.g., Giesen 1982, 25; Gnilka 1988, 76; Luz 2007, 141 (GV = 2002a, 211). 46



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Jesus’ reply in v. 15 provides the reason why John gives up his deflective attitude. In order to understand the meaning of Matt 3.14–­15, it is advisable to begin with the Matthean development of the christologoumenon of Jesus’ divine sonship, which was given to the evangelist in the Markan version of the baptism pericope. In his thetic sketch of Matthean Christology, Ulrich Luz has emphasized the motif of obedience in the Matthean Son of God conception.50 The relevance of this aspect for 3.13–­17 will become clear in what follows. At the same time, it is necessary to emphasize that it is not only the aspect of the unique closeness of Jesus to God that is connected to the divine sonship but also the motif of the exceptional authority of Jesus. This becomes exemplarily clear in the Matthean version of the walking on water pericope in 14.22–­33. Matthew has not only inserted the Peter scene (vv. 28–­31) here but has also completely reshaped the end of the pericope. The disciples do not remain uncomprehending (Mark 6.52) but fall down before Jesus and confess him as the Son of God. In this way Matthew connects Jesus’ divine sonship, first, to his saving action and, second, to the demonstration of an authority that places Jesus in proximity to God, for human beings are not able to walk on water.51 Matthew has expanded Peter’s confession to include the Son of God title in 16.16: Σὺ εἶ ὁ χριστὸς ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ζῶντος. Viewed in context, Peter thus takes up the insight that was disclosed to him and the remaining disciples on the basis of the event in 14.22–­23. The subsequent reaction of Peter to the first passion prediction of Jesus fits with this reference point. He has experienced Jesus’ divine sonship through the demonstration of an authority that surpasses human possibilities. But he still needs to integrate the idea that the Son of God will suffer and be killed by his adversaries, i.e., will be handed over into their power and apparently be defeated by them. For Matthew the suffering inflicted upon the Son of God by his adversaries does not stand in contradiction to Jesus’ authority. As the Gethsemane pericopes (26.36–­46, 47–­56) show, Matthew interprets the suffering, instead, as Jesus’ conscious forgoing of his possibility to withdraw from suffering (26.52–­54) in obedience to the will of God (26.39, 42). This aspect also characterizes the crucifixion scene. Matthew has not only inserted εἰ υἱὸς εἶ τοῦ θεοῦ into the mocking of Jesus—­which takes up the temple saying from 26.61—­by those passing by the cross in 27.39–­40, but he has also worked the Son of God motif into the mocking of Jesus by the chief priests, scribes, and elders in 27.41–­43, so that the calling into question of the divine sonship of Jesus comes to the fore as a 50

Luz 2005b, 93–­94 (GV = Luz 1991, 231–­32). For an overview of the history of religions comparative material, see Berg 1979, 37–­39; and Luz 2001, 319–­20 (GV = 1990, 407–­8). 51

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central aspect of the crucifixion scene.52 The conditional statement in 27.40 lets one think of the words of the devil in 4.3, 6.53 There the concern is not with calling Jesus’ sonship into doubt. Rather, it is presupposed, and in the first two temptations the devil seeks to mislead Jesus into an unauthorized demonstration of the ability that he possesses as Son of God.54 In actuality, however, Jesus demonstrates his divine sonship precisely in the fact that he refuses such a demonstration in obedience to God.55 In the same way, Jesus, as Son of God, in obedience to the will of the Father, does not make use of the power that is due to him in the passion but rather fulfills God’s will by not withdrawing from suffering. A fundamental aspect of the Matthean Son of God conception becomes visible here. As Son of God, Jesus participates in divine authority, but divine sonship also includes the strict attachment to the will of God—­also with a view to the use of his divine authority. The aspect shared by Matt 4 and Matt 26–­27—­namely, that Jesus, in obedience to God’s will, forgoes the use of the authority that belongs to him as Son of God and precisely thereby shows himself to be God’s Son—­is also connected to the fact that God himself confirms Jesus as his Son in each case. While this is signaled in 4.11 by the fact that the angels serve Jesus after he has stood the test, it is emphatically stressed in the passion story through 27.51–­54. Through the signs that accompany his death (27.51–­53), Jesus is identified by God himself as his Son.56 Forming a contrast to the mocking, the confession of the centurion and his people in 27.54—­ἀληθῶς θεοῦ υἱὸς ἦν οὗτος—­appears in the Matthean context as an answer to the previously depicted events.57 In order to illuminate the christological conception that stands behind the Matthean baptism pericope, it is necessary to incorporate another aspect, namely the concealment of Jesus as Son of God during his earthly activity. While, according to the christological conception of the First Evangelist, the Davidic messiahship of Jesus can be recognized in his works (9.27; 11.2–­6; 12.22–­23; 20.30–­31; 21.9, 15),58 Jesus’ divine sonship discloses itself only on the basis of special revelation (16.17), as it is given to the disciples (14.22–­33; 17.1–­9), but—­until the resurrection—­they are 52 In this sense, see, e.g., also Senior 1976, 323: “The prime issue of the death scene has become a challenge to Jesus’ sonship.” 53 Cf. Söding 1997, 739–­40. 54 Cf. also, e.g., Davies/Allison 1988, 361: “The introductory εἰ expresses a real condition (‘since’ [ . . . ]). Jesus’ status as ‘Son of God’ is not questioned; rather it is the presupposition for the devil’s temptation.” 55 On the meaning of the motif of obedience in 4.1–­11, see, e.g., Luz 2005b, 93–­94 (GV = Luz 1991, 231–­32); Broer 1992, 1274–­75; Söding 1997, 733. 56 Cf. for many W. Kraus 1997, 422–­24. 57 Cf., by way of example, Senior 1976, 312, 323–­24. 58 On this, see Konradt 2014b, 95–­98, 294–­95 (GV = 2007, 102–­5, 315–­17).



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admonished to silence (16.20; 17.9). Only with the passion does Jesus’ identity as Son of God move beyond the circle of the disciples into the public eye ([21.37; 22.2]; 26.63–­64),59 though there, as explained, in such a way that the Son of God does not shun the human suffering that is pressed upon him by his opponents or the death that is before him. This Son of God conception of the First Evangelist can be read as an attempt to mediate the belief that Jesus participated as Son of God in divine power with his earthly fate. According to Matthew, it corresponded to the will of God that Jesus, who, in the First Gospel, is, so to speak, Son of God ‘from birth onward,’60 surrendered himself fully and completely to the lowliness of human existence—­to the point of his death on the cross. In the Matthean conception, only with the event—­understood as a single complex—­of Jesus’ death, resurrection, and installation as universal Lord61 does the time come for Jesus’ identity as Son of God to become—­reaching beyond the circle of disciples—­the topic of the public proclamation (cf. 17.9), as this is presupposed in the baptismal command in 28.19, for the commission to baptize in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit implies that Jesus is proclaimed as Son of God.62 This tension between the status of Jesus as Son of God and his voluntary renunciation of status may also be the key to understanding the Matthean baptism pericope. More specifically, the christologoumenon of divine sonship already found in the Markan Vorlage is explicated by Matthew in the sense of the motif that shapes his Son of God conception on the whole, namely, the motif that the Son of God enters into human existence in obedience to the will of the Father. In 4.2–­4 Jesus’ hunger is a basic expression of his humanity.63 Jesus does not withdraw from his creaturely needfulness, although he could do this according to Matthew’s conviction, and at the same time shows himself to be an example in his reaction to the temptation of the devil. In Matt 26–­27 he surrenders himself to the vulnerability of human life through the violence of others by not withdrawing himself from suffering and crucifixion. Here, too, he is also a model for those who, in his discipleship, must carry their cross (10.38–­39; 16.24–­26; cf. 10.24–­25 and elsewhere). Matthew regards both cases as Jesus’ conscious renunciation of the exercise of the authority that is due to him as 59

On this, see Kingsbury 1986. On Matt 3.16–­17 in this respect, see below. On the connection of Jesus’ divine sonship to the motif of the conception from the Holy Spirit, see, by way of example, Kingsbury 1975, 6–­7. 61 Cf. Konradt 2014b, 304–­5 (GV = 2007, 326–­27). 62 It fits with this that Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Son of God in 16.16 is the basis of the promise to Peter about the building of the ecclesia in 16.18, which begins with the sending out of the disciples in 28.16–­20. On the connection between 16.18 and 28.16–­20, see Konradt 2014b, 347–­49 (GV = 2007, 371–­72). 63 Cf. Söding 1997, 728. 60

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Son of God and thus of the expression of his (actual) status. Viewed in this context, Jesus’ going to the Baptist points to the fact that the Son of God is tasked with entering into the reality of human existence.64 His dignity as Son of God initially remains hidden from the public (that reaches beyond the circle of disciples).65 At the same time, Jesus also appears as a model at the baptism, for Jesus shows the way that human beings must go. They should come to the Baptist, follow his call into repentance in light of the kingdom of heaven that has come near, and let themselves be baptized. If one draws 3.16 to this, then it becomes clear that the baptism pericope is also shaped by the same sequence that is suggested in the temptation story and developed in the passion narrative. The demonstration of his obedience in which Jesus lets the majesty that is due to him be hidden in his human existence is followed by the confirmation or proclamation of his divine sonship by God himself. In the face of 3.15, 3.16–­17 highlights the actual status of Jesus.66 The sequential analogy between the baptism pericope and the passion narrative by no means leads in a straight line to the renewal of the postulate that the baptism of Jesus points, in the overall context of the Gospel, to the salvation that is brought about by Jesus’ death according to 26.28. Matthew’s concern here is scarcely with the notion that Jesus “loaded the burden of all mankind’s guilt upon his shoulders” and “bore it down into the depths of the Jordan”67—­especially since it must be kept in mind that Matthew, as we have seen, has, against his Markan Vorlage, refrained from explicitly assigning a sin-­forgiving significance to the baptism of John. To this can be added the fact Matthew has omitted the metaphorical use of βάπτισμα in Mark 10.38 (cf. Luke 12.50), which looks at the death of Jesus. Furthermore, as we have seen, the sinlessness of Jesus is not emphasized in 3.14. Rather, the central aspect is his superordinated status, which 64

Cf. the interpretation of ἄφες ἄρτι in Matt 3.15 in Luck 1993, 35: “Through the fact that the rule of Jesus is revealed only after Easter, before Easter he can and must go the way of all human beings. The sentence ‘Let it happen now!’ refers to this.” 65 In the christological conception of Matthew, this is connected to the fact that Jesus’ earthly activity stands under the banner of his Davidic messiahship. On this, see Konradt 2014b, 18–­49, 307–­11 (GV = 2007, 18–­52, 329–­34). 66 The change of the personal address (Mark 1.11) into the objectifying οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός scarcely allows one to infer that a public proclamation is in view. According to 3.16, the opening of the heavens is an event seen by Jesus—­the heavens open themselves to him—­and he sees the Holy Spirit come down. Analogous to this, 3.17 lets one think of a voice from heaven that Jesus hears, because the heavens are opened for him. The heavenly court is most likely envisaged as an auditorium (see also Nolland 2005, 157; for further justification, see Konradt 2014b, 287–­89 [GV = 2007, 309–­10]; contrast Luz 2007, 143 [GV = 2002a, 214]). 67 Contrast Ratzinger 2007b, 18 (GV = 2007a, 44). See further, e.g., Barth 1975, 131: “Jesus fulfills here all righteousness through his lowering by entering into the ranks of sinners.”



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is concealed through the fact that Jesus submits himself to the baptism of John. Thus, the leading christological motif that connects Matt 3.13–­17 with the passion narrative must be regarded as the connection between Jesus’ humanity and divine sonship.68 The Son of God obediently walks upon the earthly way that God has intended for him. With respect to this aspect, Jesus’ baptism points ahead to the passion. Thus, there is a relationship to the passion insofar as the concern here and there is with mediating the way of Jesus with his status and his authority as Son of God, namely, by interpreting the assumption of the human way and the hiddenness of the authority of the Son of God as an act of obedience to the divine will. With his subordination under the will of God in Matt 3.13–­17 the Son of God functions, as Ulrich Luz has emphasized, as “prototype and model.”69 At the same time, the connection between the baptism of Jesus and his passion is not to be reduced to the aspect of the obedience of the Son of God in a purely formal sense.70 Rather, this aspect is connected to the presented christological motif, namely, the connection of the aspects of the lowliness of the human existence of Jesus with his divine sonship. If this is evaluated with a view to the understanding of Matt 3.15, then an interpretation is suggested for δικαιοσύνη that falls along the lines of the usage that surfaced in the occurrences in the Sermon on the Mount. The overarching theme is the obedience of the Son of God. Δικαιοσύνη means the behavior that corresponds to the relationship to God, the obedience to God’s will.71 Such behavior is fitting for all human beings. Thus, the community can see itself co-­addressed in the πρέπον ἐστὶν ἡμῖν, which joins together Jesus and John on the narrative level.72 This does not mean that the behavior that is appropriate to the relationship to God is the same for the community, for John, and for Jesus, since Jesus’ status as the 68

It fits with this that it is precisely this topic that is continued in the temptation story that directly follows. 69 Luz 2007, 142 (GV = 2002a, 213: “Ur-­ und Vorbild”). 70 Cf., e.g., Gnilka 1988, 79n23: “The connection to suffering exists only under the aspect of the will of God, not under the idea of atonement.” 71 Cf. the definition in Giesen 1982, 40: “ ‘Righteousness’ is an attitude of Jesus and the Christians, out of which they freely (πρέπον ἐστίν) do what is respectively demanded by God’s will.” Cf. further Gnilka 1988, 77 (according to him, righteousness means “the divine demand that is directed to human beings”); Ziesler 1972, 133–­34; Przybylski 2004, (91–­)94. 72 An understanding of ἡμῖν that includes the community is advocated by, e.g., Giesen 1982, 27, 31–­33, 41; and Gnilka 1988, 77. See also Popkes 1989, 6. Strictly speaking, however, it is necessary to distinguish between the level of the narrated world, in which ἡμῖν joins together Jesus and John, and the communicative appellative function of the scene for the hearers or readers of the Gospel. Against an incorporation of the community, see, e.g., M. J. Fiedler 1957, 108; Deines 2005, 439. The introductory οὕτως is hardly to be understood in such a way that with the act of baptism all righteousness is fulfilled, but in such a way that the baptism belongs to the fulfillment of all righteousness. Cf. Giesen 1982, 29: “Οὕτως refers to the baptism of Jesus without being remaining restricted to it.”

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Son of God implies a unique relationship to God. Correspondingly, the obedience of the Son of God to the will of the Father has specific characteristics. The aforementioned relationship between humanity and divine sonship shows itself to be a guiding theme here. Against the view of Ulrich Luz quoted at the outset, I think it must be affirmed that the demand of δικαιοσύνη concretizes itself in a specific way in the case of Jesus. It fits with this that the verb πληροῦν cannot be denied a specifically christological emphasis (cf. 5.17).73 Conversely, this does not lead to the denial of a common denominator between the fulfillment of δικαιοσύνη through Jesus and—­borrowing language from 6.1—­the ποιεῖν δικαιοσύνην that is demanded from the disciples. In both cases the concern is with acting in accordance with the respective relationship to God.74

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On this, cf. section 1.1 in chapter 4 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 289–­94). If one takes the interpretive approach pursued here as a basis, it can also be made comprehensible why Matthew has added the adverb of time ἄρτι to the imperative ἄφες. Matthew points with this to the phase of the earthly activity of Jesus in which, with a view to his way into suffering, he makes no use of the authority that belongs to him as Son of God. The caesura marked by death and resurrection, which is stressed in 23.39; 26.29; and 26.64 respectively through ἀπ’ ἄρτι, fits seamlessly into the use of ἄρτι in 3.15. 74

4

The Perfect Fulfillment of the Torah and the Conflict with the Pharisees in the Gospel of Matthew The question of the relationship of Jesus and his proclamation to the Torah in the Gospel of Matthew raises a central question of Matthean scholarship that has received much discussion and remains controversial. The issue is posed in a compressed manner in the interpretation of the antitheses in Matt 5.21–­48, specifically, in the question of whether these are to be read in a way that is critical of the Torah or in a way that is critical of its interpretation, i.e., whether Jesus’ antitheses are directed against commandments of the Torah themselves1 or against the understanding of them in certain Jewish strands.2 Other controversies stand alongside this discussion, for example, over the significance of the talk of the fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets in Matt 5.17, over the validity or relevance of Sabbath commandments (cf. Matt 12.1–­14; 24.20) and purity commandments (cf. Matt 15.1–­20; 23.25–­26), and over the precise significance of the emphasis placed on the double commandment of love as the summary of the Torah and the Prophets in 22.34–­40. And, last but not least, it can be asked whether a coherent position with regard to the Torah can be derived at all from the Gospel of Matthew.3 1 The assumption that Matthew quotes or seeks to quote Torah commandments in the theses is—­despite significant differences between the respective interpretations—­the majority position. See for many Broer 1980, 75–­81; Luz 2007, 229–­30 (GV = 2002a, 330); Sim 1998b, 129; Eckstein 1997, 396–­403; Niebuhr 1999, 176–­77; Olmstead 2016, 48–­49. 2 In this sense Burchard 1998b, 40–­44; Dietzfelbinger 1979, 3; Kuhn 1989, 213–­18; Charles 2002, 8. On the interpretation of the antitheses, cf. further Blanton 2013, 406–­9. 3 Thus Eckstein 2001, 301, finds a “peculiar contradictoriness in the development of the teaching of Jesus through Matthew.” According to Eckstein, while 5.18–­19, taking up a conservative Jewish Christian tradition, proclaims the fundamental validity of all commandments, it becomes clear elsewhere that “Matthew and his community de facto”

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We can, in fact, observe that different emphases are set in various textual segments.4 At the same time, it can be shown that a unified intention becomes visible in the Matthean discussion of the Law. This is fundamentally shaped by the fact that the Matthean community found itself in an intense conflict—­which it still perceived as an inner-­Jewish conflict—­with the Pharisaically dominated local synagogue or community of synagogues5 and therein made the claim to be the legitimate custodian and trustee of the theological traditions of Israel.6 In addressing this topic in what follows, we will first discuss fundamental aspects of the Matthean approach in Matt 5.17–­48 before looking at several of Jesus’ legal controversies with his opponents. Finally, we will briefly set the resulting data in relation to the social situation of the Matthean community, as this can be inferred from an overall reading of the Gospel and the historical context. 1. The Fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets and the Matthean Antitheses (Matt 5.17–­48) 1.1 The Declaration of Principle on “the Law and the Prophets” in 5.17–­20 After the introductory passages of the beatitudes in 5.3–­12 and the fundamental exposition of the disciples’ task to be the light of the world in 5.13–­16, the body of the Sermon on the Mount (5.17–­7.12) begins in 5.17–­20 with a declaration of principle on the Torah and the Prophets.7 The compositional placement of 5.17–­20 as the opening of the body of the Sermon on the Mount and also as the first statement in the Gospel on the Torah and the Prophets already signals the great, indeed programmatic, significance that Matthew assigns to this verse.8 On the one hand, what is concretely meant by the fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets9 (v. 17) is illuminated by the correspondence stand “in contradiction—­not only to iota and stroke but—­to decisive specifications of the Torah” (301). 4 Cf. section 2 below. 5 On the Jewish context of the Gospel of Matthew, see in detail chapter 1 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 3–­42). 6 Cf. Eckstein 1997, 399; Luomanen 1998, 88. 7 For the structure of the Sermon on the Mount, cf. Burchard 1998b, 48–­50. 8 Luz 2007, 213 (GV = 2002a, 308); Snodgrass 1988, 546; Frankemölle 1996b, 97; Sim 1998b, 126–­27. 9 πληροῦν with νόμος or the like as object is not frequent, but it is attested sporadically. For early Jewish attestations, see especially T. Naph. 8.7 (καὶ γάρ αἱ ἐντολαὶ τοῦ νόμου διπλαῖ εἰσι καὶ μετὰ τέχνης πληροῦνται). See further Sib. Or. 3.246; Philo, Praem. 83. For early Christian texts, see Rom 8.4; 13.8; Gal 5.14; (6.2). As is well known, the closest relative in the Gospel of Matthew itself is 3.15. On the plethora of interpretive options for πληρῶσαι in Matt 5.17, see the overview in Davies/Allison 1988, 485–­86.



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between “fulfill” and “do and teach” (v. 19) as the opposite of “abolish”10 (v. 17, 19), with the emphasis falling on teaching in the context of v. 18,11 though this is admittedly meant to open up a corresponding action. On the other hand, in light of the other—­christologically oriented—­uses of πληροῦν in the Gospel of Matthew, a christological dimension of meaning can also be heard. As is well known, Matthew’s concern to demonstrate that Jesus is the promised messiah on the basis of scripture has expressed itself in the ‘fulfillment quotations,’ which are typical for the Gospel of Matthew.12 The motif of continuity that is articulated in them also shapes the Matthean understanding of the teaching of Jesus and is signaled in 5.17 through πληρῶσαι:13 Matthew is concerned to place Jesus in continuity to the proclamation of the will of God in the Torah and the Prophets,14 though not merely in the form that Jesus is shown to be in agreement with the Torah and thereby legitimated, but in such a way that Jesus’ teaching first brings to light the content and intention of this proclamation of the will of God in a fully valid manner and thus establishes it.15 Thus, Jesus does not do and teach the Torah like others before and alongside him. Rather, due to his direct, intimate familiarity with the will of the Father (11.27), he is for Matthew the one teacher who has presented (and lived out) the will of God for human beings on the basis of the Torah and the Prophets in a 10

Cf. Burchard 1998b, 39, who admittedly explicitly rejects a semantic content that goes beyond this. Cf. the discussion of his view below. 11 Cf. Broer 1980, 28. 12 See Matt 1.22–­23; 2.15, 17–­18, 23; 4.14–­16; 8.17; 12.17–­21; 13.35; 21.4–­5; 27.9. A christological aspect of meaning also resonates in the only other active use of this verb in 3.15. Cf. the end of section 3 in chapter 3 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 217). 13 Burchard 1998b, 39n44, rightly refers to the semantic difference between the active formulation in 3.15; 5.17 and the passive formulation in the reflection quotations. This does not, however, hinder the assumption that Matthew uses πληρῶσαι in 5.17 to establish an associative connection to the reflection quotations, which is characterized, in terms of content, by the motif of continuity as the common denominator. Conversely, É. Cuvillier’s thesis that what is in view here is not primarily the Law “understood as commandments” but “the ‘law and the prophets’ as an expression of the will of God and hope for Israel” (Cuvillier 2009, 149; Konradt’s emphasis), which is derived from the use of πληρῶσαι in 5.17, disregards not only the difference between active and passive uses but also the differentiated Matthean use of the expression “the Law and the Prophets,” on the one hand (5.17; 7.12; 22.40), and “the Prophets and the Law,” on the other hand (11.13; cf. also below). 14 Cf. Mayer-­Haas 2003, 473, 481 (for the counter-­position, see the end of section 1.2 below). The fact that the fulfillment of the Torah or the Prophets is spoken of in 5.17 and the expression “the Torah and the Prophets” reoccurs two more times in the Gospel of Matthew in the context of the thematization of the will of God (7.12; 22.40) indicates that the concern is not simply with the commandments of the Torah but more comprehensively with the will of God that comes to expression in scripture. 15 Cf. Barth 1975, 64.

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correct, ultimately valid way and with the highest authority (cf. 23.10).16 Thus, the Torah is not ‘aufgehoben’ (sublated)17—­in the double sense of the word—­in the teaching of Jesus,18 as the subsequent appeals to Old Testament commandments in the Gospel of Matthew already demonstrate (see 15.4; 19.18–­19; 22.37–­40). On the contrary, the concern is with the true disclosure in the teaching of Jesus of the will of God that has been proclaimed to Israel in scripture, in the Torah and the Prophets. In other words, Jesus fulfills the Torah and the Prophets by displaying the ‘fullness’ of what is commanded and realizing it in his life.19 The fundamental statement of 5.17 is concretized in v. 18 and v. 19 in a double respect. On the one hand, the comprehensive validity of the Torah is reinforced through v. 18. Points of controversy are the interpretation of the two ἕως phrases in Matt 5.18b, d and their relation to one another. Interpretations that relate v. 18d to the ‘fulfillment’ of the demands of the Torah by Jesus20 or to the activity, death, and resurrection of Jesus21 are made highly unlikely by the content of v. 18b. Moreover, it presupposes an untenable interpretation of πληρῶσαι in Matt 5.17. Put differently, after the statement in v. 18b has been made, ἕως ἃν πάντα γένηται can likewise refer only to the end of the world (cf. Matt 24.34–­35). Thus, the two ἕως phrases in Matt 5.18b, d are materially identical.22 No iota or stroke will pass away as long as this world exists.23 Here, the accent lies not 16

Cf. Mayer-­Haas 2003, 471, 480; Sim 1998b, 124. In German the word “aufheben” can have the double meaning of “to cancel or abolish” and “to preserve or maintain.” See, e.g., Magee 2010, 238. In English, this word has been translated with a variety of terms, including ‘sublate,’ ‘sublimate,’ ‘annul,’ and ‘abolish.’ The translation ‘sublate/sublated’ is often used when both meanings are in view. In Hegel, this term also conveys the meaning ‘to raise up.’ 18 A different view is advocated by Banks 1975; Thielman 1999, 46, 69–­72 (“Jesus’ own teaching is a replacement of the Mosaic law. Jesus’ own words, including his affirmation of the Mosaic law’s ultimate goal and many of its specific requirements, constitute not a new interpretation of the Mosaic law but a supersession of it” [69]); and Deines 2005, 400, 434 (the way to righteousness leads “via Jesus and thus via cross and resurrection [ . . . ] [3.15; 21.32]. The Torah in its old function can contribute nothing to this eschatological righteousness; it remains, however, preserved and valid in the ἐντολαί of Jesus [ . . . ]. It remains present as fulfilled but the way into the universal basileia does not lead via it but via Jesus” [434, original emphasis]), even though Deines avoids the talk of an abolishment (Aufhebung) and—­apparently with regard to the simple literal meaning—­explicitly rejects it (e.g., p. 392). 19 Vahrenhorst 2002, 236–­43 comes to a similar understanding by taking the pictorial content of the word as his starting point: “πληρόω lets the picture of a vessel that is filled with a certain content appear before the eyes of a Greek-­speaking reader.” 20 Thus, e.g., Banks 1975, 217. 21 In this sense, see, e.g., Meier 1976, 63–­64. 22 For the interpretation of the ἕως phrases in Matt 5.18, cf. Davies/Allison 1988, 490, 494–­95; Sim 1998b, 124–­26. 23 The interpretation of 5.17–­18 according to which Jesus’ instruction overbids or “sublates” the Torah cannot appeal to Matt 11.13, for through ἐπροφήτευσαν Matthew explicitly characterizes there the respect in which “all the Prophets and the Law” reach 17



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on the restriction of the validity of the Torah to the end of the world but on the unrestricted validity until then.24 On the other hand, a weighting among the commandments becomes clear through the language of iota and stroke and—­related back to this—­of ἐντολαὶ ἐλάχισται.25 There are small and great commandments.26 These two statements form, as will become even more clear, an overall connection, which obtains its specific coloring against the backdrop of the conflict of the community with its Pharisaic counterpart. According to 5.19, the one who relaxes the smallest commandment and teaches human beings accordingly will be called the smallest in the kingdom of heaven. Since Matthew is familiar with the notion that there are different degrees of honor in the kingdom of heaven,27 ἐλάχιστος κληθήσεται ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τῶν οὐρανῶν is scarcely a mere rhetorical flourish that can be attributed to the attempt to highlight the nexus between conduct and consequences through the taking up of a word from the first part of the sentence in the second part and that de facto implies exclusion from salvation.28 Rather, it must be taken at its word: access to the kingdom of God is not blocked for the person who neglects small commandments or even declares them to be obsolete in their teaching, but the person will receive less honor there.29 The alternative “share in salvation (only) to John. There, the concern is precisely not—­as it is in 5.17—­with God’s will. Matt 11.13 therefore contributes nothing essential to the understanding of 5.17 (against Meier 1976, 85–­89; Deines 2005, 277–­79; Olmstead 2016, 45–­46, 49–­51). ἐπροφήτευσαν, just like the sequence of “all the Prophets and the Law”—­which deviates from Matt 5.17; 7.12; 22.40 (!)—­is probably based on Matthean redaction (cf. the reconstruction of the Q text in Robinson/Hoffmann/Kloppenborg 2000, 464). This means that Matthew avoids precisely the general statement “the Law and the Prophets (are) until John,” because it could be understood in a way that was irreconcilable with Matt 5.17 (against Banks 1974, 236–­37). 24 Cf. Vahrenhorst 2002, 244: Matthew mentions “no endpoint for the validity of the Torah here . . . ; rather, he emphasizes its present and future validity.” 25 See the demonstrative pronoun added to it. Thus, “iota and stroke” is epexegetically unpacked by ἐντολαὶ ἐλάχισται. Contrast Schellong 1997, 670–­71, according to whom iota and stroke mean the exact meaning of the commandments. Like several scholars before him, Deines 2005, 403, relates ἐντολαί in 5.19 to “the commandments of Jesus entrusted to the disciples in which no iota of the ‘Torah’ has been neglected.” Rightly opposed by Davies/Allison 1988, 496. In this context, it should be noted that 28.20 also does not speak of the commandments of Jesus in substantival form. Rather all the other attestations of ἐντολαί in the Gospel of Matthew refer to Torah commandments (15.3; 19.17; 22.36, 38, 40). 26 Cf. the redactional talk of the μεγάλη ἐντολή in 22.36, 38 (cf. Luomanen 1998, 84)! 27 See Matt 5.12; 11.11; 10.41–­42; 18.1–­4; 20.23. This notion is sometimes encountered in early Judaism and in rabbinic literature. For early Jewish attestations, see 4 Ezra 8.49; 10.57; 2 En. 44.5. For rabbinic attestations, see Bill. 1:249–­50; 4/2:1138–­43. 28 Against Schweizer 1986, 62; Gielen 1998, 67–­68, 81–­82; Luomanen 1998, 85; Sim 1998a, 583–­84. 29 If the verse is to be understood in this sense (cf., by way of example, Broer 1980, 52–­53), then a moderate Jewish Christian position comes to expression here (cf. Luz

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or exclusion” does not occur until v. 20 in the context of the opposition between the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, on the one hand, and the “better righteousness” expected from the disciples, on the other hand. The Torah obedience of the scribes and Pharisees must therefore be more seriously deficient than the relaxation of small commandments in v. 19. They fall short of the will of God, which is promulgated to human beings in the ‘great commandments.’30 The accusation contained in v. 20 is made explicit in 23.23, which states that the scribes and Pharisees are very exact when it comes to tithing—­a small commandment—­but neglect what is most important in the Law,31 namely, justice, mercy, and faithfulness.32 The consequence of such a deficient understanding of the Torah is a Torah practice that leads to an inadequate level of righteousness. The disciples must do this better, i.e., their righteousness must far surpass the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees if they wish to enter the kingdom of God. For this the will of God as it is expressed in the ‘great commandments’ must be disclosed to them in its full meaning. Matt 5.21–­48 fleshes this out. 1.2 Matt 5.17–­20 and the Antitheses in 5.21–­48 With the programmatic statements in 5.17–­20 Matthew has placed a reading guide before the antitheses. However, it is often suggested that this reading guide stands in tension with the original thrust of the antitheses,33 for it is postulated that Jesus places his authority over the Torah there.34 It is presupposed in this view that the antithetical form does not come from 2002a, 317–­18; ET = Luz 2007, 219–­21). A similar position is then found somewhat later in the Didache (Did. 6.2–­3). 30 A different position is taken by Broer 1980, 62, according to whom “the righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes . . . in the teaching” is lacking “in the holding fast to iota and stroke and these smallest commandments” (similarly, Luomanen 1998, 85, who thinks 5.20 explicates the criticism of the scribes and Pharisees that was implicit in 5.19). But such a lack does not lead to an exclusion from salvation according to v. 19. 31 The talk of τὰ βαρύτερα τοῦ νόμου goes back—­as its lack in the Lukan parallel (Luke 11.42) suggests—­to Matthean redaction. Thus, the diachronic profile of the text underlines the relevance of the distinction between great and small commandments for the First Evangelist. 32 In my view, Deines 2005, 269–­70, misunderstands the Matthean view of the Torah when he places the conflict between Jesus and the scribes and Pharisees recounted in the Gospel in analogy to the tension that he postulates between Jesus and the Torah and makes the scribes and Pharisees representatives of the Torah without qualification. Matthew accuses the scribes and Pharisees precisely of not understanding the Torah. On this, see further below. 33 This position is pointedly expressed by Zeller 1988, 303, according to whom 5.17ff. “stand . . . in stark contradiction to 5.21–­48.” 34 Cf., by way of example, Yieh 2004, 34–­35.



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the hand of the evangelist. If one follows the “normal hypothesis,”35 Matthew found the first, second, and fourth antithesis as such in his special material and then redactionally shaped the other three—­which have Synoptic parallels without antithetical clothing—­after this model. This thesis sometimes receives a—­in my view necessary—­modification through the observation that while the prohibition of oaths in the fourth antithesis lacks a Synoptic parallel, it has a close relative in Jas 5.12, again without the antithetical form, which is also secondary in this case.36 This leaves as possibly genuine antitheses only the first two, in which the first two Decalogue commandments of the second table are taken up.37 Precisely in these antitheses, however, an opposition to the Decalogue commandments is by no means expressed in Jesus’ position. Rather, we are dealing here with expansive interpretations of the commandments according to the pattern ‘not only when, but already when,’38 which extend their meaning vis-­à-­vis an understanding that sticks merely to the letter of what is said. The prohibition of murder accordingly encompasses manifestations of anger that are substantially more harmless than murder, such as the use of verbal injuries; the behavior incriminated by the prohibition against adultery is expanded to merely looking at another person’s wife to desire her.39 Jesus’ instructions take up tendencies of early Jewish Torah paraenesis,40 which includes intense warnings against anger41 and seeks to get to the root of the problem of adultery by ‘setting its sights’ on eye contact42—­with the opinion, of course, that they were doing nothing other than making present God’s will in the Torah. If one wishes to trace back 35 On the designation, see Luz 2007, 227 (GV = 2002a, 326). On other hypotheses, see Luz 2007, 227–­28 (GV = 2002a, 326–­27). 36 Other works that fall along this line include Dautzenberg 1981, 52, 61; and Kollmann 1996, 189–­90. By contrast, Strecker 1978 argues for the originality of the antithetical form. 37 See, against this, the postulate of a redactional origin of all the antitheses in Broer 1975; Suggs 1978. It is not possible to reach a certain decision, but the thesis of a redactional origin of the antithetical clothing also in 5.21–­30 is an option that merits serious consideration. On this, see Konradt 2020b, 78–­79 (GV = 2015a, 79–­80). 38 Cf. Hummel 1963, 72; Broer 1975, 59. 39 For the interpretation of Matt 5.22 and 5.28, see in detail chapter 5 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 316–­47). 40 On this, cf. for the antitheses as a whole Niebuhr 1999, 181–­98; Konradt 2020b, 79–­98 (GV = 2015a, 80–­99); and, specifically on 5.21–­30, chapter 5 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 316–­47). 41 See as a model case the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, specifically T. Sim. 4.8; T. Jud. 14.1; T. Dan passim (1.3: anger teaches the human being every evil); T. Gad 5.1. See further Sir. 1.22–­23; 10.18; 27.30; 4 Macc 2.16; Pss. Sol. 16.10; Ps.-­Phoc. 57; Sib. Or. 3.377; and elsewhere. 42 See above all T. Iss. 7.2 (πλὴν τῆς γυναικός μου οὐκ ἔγνων ἄλλην οὐκ ἐπόρνευσα ἐν μετεωρισμῷ ὀφθαλμῶν μου); as well as T. Benj. 6.3; 8.2; as well as the ‘reflection’ on Ruben’s sin of fornication in T. Reu. 3.10–­6.4.

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the first two antitheses to the historical Jesus, one can say that with respect to the prohibition of murder and adultery, what appears as an unfolding of the Torah in the—­sapientially shaped—­early Jewish Torah paraenesis, on the one hand, is taken further and sharpened by Jesus, and, on the other hand, is explicitly set in opposition to a merely literal understanding that does not consider what lies below the threshold of the expressly prohibited and thus runs the risk of letting this appear as an ethical free space.43 With this, however, the Torah commandments are not ‘abolished’ but rather—­in the horizon of the kingdom of God44—­newly put into force. For Matthew this means that 5.17–­20 does not serve a conservative Jewish Christian domestication of a decidedly Torah-­critical position of Jesus. On the contrary, the claim to fulfill the Torah and the Prophets that is expressed in 5.17 fits seamlessly into the authority of Jesus, as it is claimed in the first two antitheses, which might be traditional. To be sure, what is decisive for the understanding of Matt 5.21–­48 is not the diachronically oriented question of how 5.17–­20 relates the role of the Torah in the antitheses that might have been handed down to the evangelist but rather the question of how Matthew understood the theses—­concretely, whether Matthew, with the theses, wanted to put forward commandments of the Torah. If one asks whether or to what extent the theses agree with the Old Testament commandments in their wording, then this leads, as Christoph Burchard has shown,45 to a complex set of findings. A(n almost) word-­for-­word reproduction is present, after the prohibition of adultery in the Decalogue, only in the fifth antithesis on the renunciation of retaliation (which is, however, only a sentence fragment), where multiple Old Testament passages come into consideration as a reference. All the other theses are not found in their present form in the Torah. In the first antithesis, the prohibition of murder from the Decalogue is quoted first and a specification of punishment that agrees with the Torah but does not appear in it in this form is then added to it. According to Exod 21.12; Lev 24.17, whoever kills a person shall be put to death;46 a close dependence of Matt 5.21 on this cannot be registered. The third thesis, that whoever divorces his wife should give her a certificate of divorce, is not an Old Testament commandment at all but is based on Old Testament 43

Cf. Feldmeier 1998, 46–­47. An examination of the paraenetic form of the contemporization of the Torah in the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs already shows, by way of example, that drawing such a conclusion does not correspond to early Jewish Torah interpretation. This does not rule out, however, the possibility that Matthew polemically imputes such a misunderstanding to the scribes and Pharisees. 44 On the kingdom of God as the horizon and enabling basis of the demands, see below. 45 See Burchard 1998b, 40–­41. See further Sänger 1995, 84–­85. 46 See also Gen 9.6; Num 35.16–­34; Deut 19.11–­13.



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material, namely, on Deut 24.1–­4, where the presentation of a certificate of divorce is mentioned en passant. The fourth thesis also does not appear in such a form in the Old Testament, though there are again commandments that can be invoked as background.47 Especially instructive is the sixth thesis in which the love commandment of Lev 19.18 is, on the one hand, quoted incompletely and, on the other hand, furnished—­like the prohibition of murder in Matt 5.21—­with an addition. In view of the evangelist’s good knowledge of scripture, it would be absurd to claim that he did not know that this does not appear in this form in the Torah, especially since he correctly quotes the love commandment two additional times later. In short, Matthew surely does not assume that he has consistently quoted Torah commandments in their wording in the theses. Matt 5.43 also speaks firmly against the view that the theses are to be understood as paraphrases of the Torah with which Matthew sought to reproduce what was commanded in the Torah in a more or less free manner. For it would otherwise be necessary to postulate that Matthew, in 5.43, criticized the commandment whose keeping belongs to the conditions of obtaining eternal life according to 19.19 and that is, together with the commandment of love for God, declared to be the main commandment in 22.34–­40.48 Put differently, for Matthew the opposition of love for neighbor and love for enemy is not contained in the commandment itself but rather is introduced into the commandment through a faulty interpretation; Jesus’ counterthesis correspondingly serves to reject the faulty interpretation and bring to light the true meaning of the commandment. The commandment “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” applies also and precisely in relation to the enemy. The fact that the concern in 5.21–­48 cannot be with a criticism of the commandments themselves also becomes clear with respect to the Decalogue commandments in 5.21, 27 through the recourse to these commandments in 15.19 and 19.18. While we must rule out the view that the evangelist viewed the theses as Torah quotations or Torah paraphrases on the basis of the overall context of the Gospel of Matthew, the Matthean understanding of the theses can be inferred from the attachment of 5.21–­48 to 5.20. Matt 5.20 functions, as scholars have often noted, as a sort of heading for what follows.49 This applies, however, not only insofar as the “better righteousness” expected from the disciples is made materially concrete through Jesus’ countertheses, for the inadequate righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees is simultaneously unpacked in the theses, i.e., the compositional 47

See Exod 20.7; Lev 19.12; Zech 8.17 for Matt 5.33b, as well as Num 30.3; Deut 23.22; Ps 50.14 for Matt 5.33c. 48 On this, cf. Davies/Allison 1997, 243. 49 Luz 2002a, 319: “Obersatz” (ET = 2007, 221: “heading”).

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function of 5.20 must be understood in a more thoroughgoing way than in the usual interpretation. The verse is the heading in both of its members, and the antitheses as a whole explicate exemplarily the demand of 5.20 by juxtaposing the Torah interpretations that underlie the respective levels of righteousness of 5.20 in thesis and counterthesis. The concern in the theses is not simply with the Torah but rather with the Torah as it is understood by the scribes and Pharisees,50 with it being necessary to add that the theses do not thereby become historically usable sources for the Pharisees’ understanding of the Law51 but rather must be viewed as part of a polemical dispute. This interpretive approach is supported by the fact that Matthew, in the last antithesis, has created a reference back to περισσεύσῃ in 5.20 through the phrase τί περισσὸν ποιεῖτε in v. 47. Jesus’ counterthesis formulates what it is that is meant to distinguish the disciples from the scribes and Pharisees in their following of the will of God. The fact that, with the exception of 5.31,52 the antithetical formula is never ἐρρέθη –­ ἐγὼ δὲ λέγω ὑμῖν but always ἠκούσατε ὅτι ἐρρέθη (τοῖς ἀρχαίοις) –­ ἐγὼ δὲ λέγω ὑμῖν also fits this proposed understanding of the theses. ἐρρέθη stands parallel to τὸ ῥηθέν in the fulfillment quotations, i.e., it points to the scripture or to the authority of God that stands behind the Torah;53 what is meant by the “ancient ones” is correspondingly the Sinai generation. However, a relativization is contained in the introductory ἠκούσατε, which can be explained most easily by assuming that the synagogal Torah interpretation on the Sabbath is in view here (on this, see, e.g., Philo, Spec. 2.61–­63; Hypoth. 7.11–­14; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.175).54 In it the Torah was 50 For other scholars whose interpretations fall along this line, see Hummel 1963, 50, 70–­75; Burchard 1998b, 40 (Matthew probably “did not see Old Testament quotations in the theses . . . but sentences of the ‘righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees’ ”); Sänger 1995, 91. See also Kampen 1994 and Kampen 2019, 92–­97. 51 Cf. Burchard 1998b, 42; Suggs 1978, 101. 52 This exception can be easily explained by the fact that the second and the third antitheses belong closely together thematically, i.e., the third antithesis continues the topic of the second one. Both deal with adultery. 53 By contrast, Eckstein 1997, 397–­403, postulates Moses as the implied subject in ἐρρέθη and demarcates this from the interpretation of ἐρρέθη as a passivum divinum. Thus, the Torah critical reading of the antitheses goes hand in hand with an at least tendential devaluation of the divine dignity of the Torah. This view, however, is already called into question by the fact that Matthew replaces “Moses” (Mark 7.10) with “God” in the introduction to his quotation of the commandment to honor one’s parents in Matt 15.4. 54 The concern is not—­as Banks 1975, 202; and Gundry 1994, 84, for example, postulate—­simply with the reading of the Torah (see also Davies/Allison 1988, 510). Loader 1997, 172, by contrast, points in the right direction: “The most plausible explanation is that Matthew sees Jesus citing commandments as they were being heard, i.e. interpreted.” A very similar interpretation is put forth by Betz 1995, 208: “The [Sermon on the Mount] introduces here a critical difference between what God has in fact said and what the tradition claims God has said” (see also p. 217). Barth 1975, 87 interprets ἠκούσατε in



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contemporized, explained, and expanded, and such interpretation could, in turn, be designated without further ado as commanded in the Torah itself. In the words of Karlheinz Müller, in early Judaism the Sinai revelation was not understood “as a one-­time prior given with statements that were firmly delimited for all time,” but “the revelation of the Torah was regarded as deeply dependent on the process of human mediation, which could first bring it about that the Torah became applicable in the concrete historical circumstances.”55 One can see this human process of mediation reflected in the introductory formula to the theses. The Sinai revelation is open; the halakic mediation is, so to speak, written into it. The introductory formula of the theses takes this up. The aforementioned mixed form of the theses can be understood without difficulty against this background and on the basis of the proposed interpretation of the theses as illustrations of the Torah understanding of the scribes and Pharisees. Where a saying from the Torah appears, such as in the second antithesis, the concern is to show that the scribes and Pharisees only superficially stick close to the letter of the commandment but do not penetrate to the deeper intention of the commandment, as it is brought to light, as explained above, through Jesus’ counterthesis. By contrast, in the case of the love commandment in the sixth antithesis, the “restrictive interpretation” is expressed through an addition to the commandment,56 whereas Jesus’ counterthesis brings to light the will of God articulated in the commandment in its full sense. The love commandment is not (as the scribes and Pharisees are accused of understanding it) limited to one’s own circle of friends and acquaintances according to the vulgar-­ethical principle of reciprocity,57 but applies universally—­and thus also and precisely to the enemy. With regard to the criticism that is directed against the scribes and Pharisees in 5.20–­48, one can thus conclude that the implication of 5.20—­namely, that the scribes do not merely abolish smaller commandments but fall short of the weighty demands of the Torah—­is explained and fleshed out through the series of antitheses. One can work through the four remaining antitheses in a corresponding way. The prohibition against murder, in this understanding, aims not merely at judicially prosecutable cases of murder but is directed, when properly understood, against every angry or aggressive action against the neighbor, which in the worst cases leads to murder. 58 In the

the sense of “you have received as tradition.” According to Gnilka 1988, 153, “ ‘You have heard’ points to the mediation that took place in the worship service and teaching.” 55 Müller 1986, 24–­25. 56 Cf. Burchard 1998b, 41. 57 On this, cf. Konradt 2016, 369–­71; 2018a, 370–­71. 58 On this, see the detailed discussion of the interpretation of the prohibition of murder in chapter 5 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 320–­30).

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third antithesis, the scribes and Pharisees are accused of deriving a general permission from the possibility of divorce mentioned in Deut 24, while the Matthean Jesus relates the allowance of divorce to the singular case of fornication by the wife. The insertion of the fornication clause has the effect here that the regulation of Deut 24 is not annulled through Jesus’ position on divorce. In the case of the fourth antithesis, the thesis summarizes relevant stipulations of the Torah in a concise prohibition of making false oaths and in the commandment to keep oaths to God, while Jesus’ counterthesis again goes beyond the understanding of the scribes and Pharisees, which adheres merely to the literal meaning, and discloses—­here, too, taking up tendencies of early Jewish paraenesis59—­the truth of all human speech to be the intention of God standing behind these instructions and thereby brings out the force of the Decalogue commandment that one should not misuse the name of God with ultimate consistency and rigor.60 An opposition to the Old Testament commandment itself appears to be present in the case of the fifth antithesis, where Jesus’ demand to forgo resistance is prima facie diametrically opposed to the talio formula “an eye for an eye,” which is quoted in the thesis. The later rabbinic interpretation, however, attests an understanding of the talio in the sense of financial compensation for harm.61 Moreover, even apart from this interpretation, the point of the talio can be seen precisely in the fact that a limitation of vengeance occurs here.62 Against this background, Jesus’ counterthesis can be understood in such a way that in it the impetus of the Torah commandment as critical of vengeance is taken up and radicalized, and in this way the actual intention of God behind the wording of the commandment is disclosed. “It is another factor, however, that proves decisive. In the context of the Pentateuch’s legislation, the lex talionis is not about establishing measures for taking justice into one’s own hands, but about a principle for determining sentences in the courtroom. On the other hand, the counterthesis in Matthew 5.39–­42 makes it clear that what is being discussed is the lex talionis as a rule for everyday life. If we are to read the thesis in the sense of 5.20, as an example of how the Law was understood by the scribes and Pharisees, i.e., the understanding of the Law that underlies their inadequate level of justice, then what is criticized here is taking the lex talionis as a principle of behavior in personal conflicts, as though every individual 59 On this, see Vahrenhorst 2002 and the discussion of the prohibition of oaths in chapter 5 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 337–­40). 60 On the connection of the prohibition of oaths with Exod 20.7, see Dautzenberg 1981, 53–­54. 61 See the discussion in b. B. Qam. 83–­84. Josephus, Ant. 4.280 is familiar with the payment of damages as a possibility, though this is admittedly dependent on the decision of the person who is harmed. 62 On this, cf. Luz 2007, 276 (GV = 2002a, 391); Thielman 1999, 55–­56.



The Perfect Fulfillment of the Torah and the Conflict with the Pharisees in the Gospel of Matthew 87

has the right to respond to experienced injustice with ‘appropriate’ retaliation: ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.’ ”63

The concluding admonition in 5.48 expresses in a nutshell the aspect that Jesus’ countertheses bring to light the will of God in its full meaning. It is frequently and rightly emphasized that the verse not only concludes the sixth antithesis but also summarizes the whole series.64 The demand for perfection varies here the talk of the better righteousness in 5.20, which was delineated in terms of content by the antitheses. Perfection is possible on the basis of the preceding disclosure of the will of God articulated in scripture through the authoritative instruction of Jesus. The material context of this Torah hermeneutic is Jesus’ message of the nearness of the kingdom (cf. Matt 4.17),65 i.e., the antitheses interpret the Torah in the face of the kingdom of God that is drawing near, and this means—­to speak with Matt 19.8—­that concern for human hardness of heart, which characterizes life in this world, does not limit the unfolding and putting into effect of the will of God.66 If one wishes to find a Torah critical accent in the antitheses, then at best it is present to the extent that the formulation of the divine will in the Torah of Moses has the ethical deficiency of human beings in view,67 and for this reason it often tends to aim at the containment of evil.68 To be sure, in this respect, reference must also be made again to the openness of early Jewish Torah paraenesis as the history-­of-­religions context of the evangelist. In early Judaism, ethical instruction is sometimes oriented to the Torah only in a quite free manner,69 and yet it nevertheless undoubtedly understands itself as its elucidation and unfolding. The living process of the contemporization and elaboration of the will of God cannot be detached from the written Torah. This applies in principle also to the instructions of Jesus in Matt 5.21–­48 in Matthew’s understanding of them.70 Their specific, ‘radical’ contours 63

Konradt 2020b, 92 (GV = 2015a, 94). See, by way of example, Luz 2007, 289 (GV = 2002a, 408). 65 On this, cf. with a view to the ‘historical’ Jesus, by way of example, Dietzfelbinger 1975, 70–­76. 66 In the context of the dispute involving the question of the Pharisees about divorce in Matt 19.3–­9—­in Matthew the concern is more precisely with the question of whether a man is permitted to send away his wife κατὰ πᾶσαν αἰτίαν—­Jesus explains that the original will of God expressed in the creation story in Gen 2 was that man and woman are one flesh. Only because of human hardheartedness did Moses later permit divorce. The approaching kingdom of God is now the kairos in which the original will of God is brought into force. 67 On this, cf. Davies/Allison 1988, 494; as well as Yang 1997, 128; Thielman 1999, 51–­58. 68 Cf. Feldmeier 1998, 46. 69 On this, see Müller 1996. 70 This is to be distinguished from the fact that on the basis of a present-­day analytical perspective it can be concluded that the instructions of Jesus in Matt 5.21–­48 64

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are to be seen here in connection with the aspect that they elaborate and unpack the will of God expressed in the Torah in the light of and under the presupposition of the advancing kingdom of God. To conclude, Matt 5.21–­48 does not by any means stand in tension with 5.17–­20. The basic message of the Matthean antitheses is not that the Torah is insufficient in itself and (therefore) Jesus goes beyond the Torah with his demands.71 Instead, the basic message is that Jesus’ instruction perfectly discloses the will of God articulated in the Torah in the light of the kairos of the near kingdom of God and thereby makes possible the perfection required in 5.48, while the interpretation of the Law of the scribes and Pharisees that is targeted in the theses attests their lack of understanding. The reaction of the crowds to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in 7.28–­29 takes up precisely this contrast. The crowds are astonished, “for he taught them with authority and not as their scribes.” The connection between the interpretation of the social-­ethical commandments by Jesus and the demand for perfection that surfaces in 5.17–­48 returns in a second text into which Matthew has inserted the idea of perfection, namely in 19.21.72 Since the concern in Jesus’ reaction to the departure of the young man is with entrance into the kingdom of God and thus still with entering eternal life, i.e., with the opening question of v. 16, it is necessary to conclude that the rich young man has not fulfilled the condition that is formulated for this in v. 17, namely, keeping the commandments. If this is correct, then Jesus’ exhortation to sell his possessions (v. 21) must be understood as an interpretation or application of the previously quoted commandments, specifically of the love commandment.73 For the rich young man in his specific situation, a perfect fulfillment of the love commandment would mean that he places his possessions at the disposal of the poor74—­as the perfect ful-

transcend the content of the underlying Old Testament commandments de facto (cf. Yang 1997, 120–­29). For Matthew himself, however, the concern is with the fact that Jesus’ instructions unfold the Torah commandments according to their own intention and this is, from a history-­of-­religions perspective, to be viewed in the context of the living processes of interpreting the Torah and the principal openness that accompanied this. 71 By contrast, Banks 1974, 231, thinks that a moment of discontinuity is contained in the idea of fulfillment: “That which is more than the law has now been realized.” Cf. Banks 1975, 210; Yang 1997, 18, 111; and, especially, Thielman 1999, 47–­72. 72 On Matt 19.16–­22, see in detail section 2.2 in chapter 5 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 340–­43). 73 This is correctly grasped by Deines 2005, 391: “By not being able to sell and distribute his possessions, [the rich young man] acknowledges that he does not love his neighbor as himself.” A different position is taken by Thielman 1999, 59–­60. 74 Thus, here too the demand for perfection is related to the observance of the will of God made possible by Jesus, as it is fundamentally articulated in the commandments of holy scripture (cf. Meiser 2000, 198–­204). Lohse 1991, 138–­40, and Hoppe 1991 interpret differently here.



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fillment of the love commandment, according to 5.43–­48, also includes encountering the enemy with love. And as 5.43–­48 is addressed—­at least primarily—­to the disciples (see 5.1–­2), so the application of the love commandment in 19.21 leads to the call to discipleship. Discipleship and keeping the Torah in the sense and on the basis of the understanding of it opened by Jesus are two sides of the same coin for Matthew. From this it follows that with the insertion of the idea of perfection in 19.21 the concern is also with the fulfillment of the Torah in its interpretation by Jesus, which intensifies the social-­ethical demand. Indeed, in 5.48, as in 19.21, the idea of perfection is located more specifically in the context of the interpretation of the love commandment, which is redactionally attached to the Decalogue commandments in v. 19. The rich young man thus appears as an analogous case to the scribes and Pharisees in 5.20ff., namely, as an example of an understanding that does not grasp the full meaning of this ‘great’ commandment and a correspondingly insufficient Torah practice. And like the scribes and Pharisees (see 5.20), access to the kingdom of God also remains barred to him (19.23).

The thesis that the Matthean antitheses are to be read consistently in the context of the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees finds confirmation when one incorporates additional texts that deal with the theme of the Law in the Gospel of Matthew. Specifically, there are a whole series of conflict scenes in which the Pharisees repeatedly appear as opponents of Jesus in questions regarding the Torah. 2. The Controversies with the Pharisees over the Torah and the Prophets in the Gospel of Matthew If one asks about leitmotifs that shape the Matthean presentation of the conflict between Jesus and the Jewish authorities, then reference must be made, first, to Jesus’ dignity as the (Davidic) messiah of Israel, to whom the authorities should have subordinated themselves,75 and, second, to the understanding of the will of God, to the interpretation of the Torah or, more comprehensively, of the Torah and the Prophets. An initial conflict already occurs in Matt 9.9–­13, where the Pharisees take offence at Jesus’ table fellowship with tax collectors and sinners. By redactionally having the Pharisees speak of Jesus as a teacher (9.11), he directs attention to the fact that the concern is with a question of the understanding of the will of God. To this corresponds the insertion of Hos 6.6 in the reaction of Jesus (9.13).76 Through this insertion, the meal with tax collectors becomes 75 On this, see Stanton 1992c, 100, 108–­12; Konradt 2014b, 135–­36 (GV = 2007, 146–­47); as well as Verseput 1987, 535–­36. 76 Cf. Repschinski 2000, 78.

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an illustration of the fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets by Jesus (5.17).77 The Pharisees, by contrast, appear ignorant.78 This configuration returns in the protest of the Pharisees against the disciples’ plucking of heads of grain on the Sabbath in Matt 12.1–­8. Here, Matthew explicitly refers at the outset to the fact that the disciples were hungry. This not only serves the analogy that is made with recourse to David in v. 3 but also and especially prepares for the argument that Matthew inserts in vv. 5–­7, namely, that the priests in the temple, since they need to present the offering prescribed by Num 28.9–­10, de facto profane the Sabbath and yet are guiltless. The Matthean Jesus thus points to the fact that the Torah itself operates with a hierarchy among the commandments,79 or, more specifically, Matthew, with vv. 5–­7, takes up the halakic discussion about what overrides the Sabbath80 and makes a specific contribution to this discussion through the repeated recourse to Hos 6.6. The concern here is with something greater than the temple, namely, with mercy,81 which is superordinated over sacrifice according to the prophetic saying. If the temple service can already override the Sabbath commandment, how much more can mercy do so.82 Thus, Jesus again lets the scripture speak for his interpretation of the will of God. The fact that the plucking of grain breaks the Sabbath (see Exod 34.21; cf. Jub 50.12; CD 10.20–­21; m. Shab. 7.2) is not disputed.83 But since mercy has priority with and before God, the disciples, since they were hungry, are nevertheless guiltless. In other words, whoever rightly understands the will of God, that is, grasps the superordinated significance of the demand for mercy, knows that no accusation at all is to be made against the hungry disciples.84 By contrast, with their accusation, the Pharisees reveal their own ignorance of scripture. They must not only be reminded of the scene with David; they have apparently also not read the specification in the Law85 about the temple service on the Sabbath, and they certainly have not understood the prophetic saying of Hos 6.6. In the 77 78

ἐστιν.

79

Cf. Hummel 1963, 39. See the introduction of the Hosea quotation with πορευθέντες δὲ μάθετε τί

Cf. Mayer-­Haas 2003, 443, 487; Deines 2005, 485. On this, see Vahrenhorst 2002, 385–­89. 81 In context, μεῖζον is further specified by ἔλεος (cf. Luz 2001, 181–­82; GV = 1990, 231). A reference to Jesus himself (see for many Yang 1997, 176–­77, 180–­81; Tuckett 2011, 119–­20) is unlikely due to the neuter form. 82 Cf. Vahrenhorst 2002, 383, 388. 83 A different position is taken by Yang 1997, 174, 175, 185. 84 Cf. Doering 1999, 435: “In the perspective of mercy infractions against the Sabbath that were committed by human beings who suffered lack could be justified.” 85 Οὐκ ἀνέγνωτε takes up v. 3; ἐν τῷ νόμῳ is explicitly added. 80



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Matthean context, this also means that they have not learned the lesson that Jesus had given them in 9.13.86 The fact that with the mention of the disciples’ hunger Matthew adduces a case that legitimates their behavior simultaneously indicates that Matthew does not want to understand the text in such a way that the Sabbath commandment itself is annulled in principle.87 Rather, what we catch sight of here is the difference between small and great commandments, as it came to light in 5.17–­19. Mercy is a great commandment; keeping the Sabbath is subordinated to it. When they come into conflict, the more important commandment is to be given priority. Thus, the controversy over the plucking of heads of grain on the Sabbath exemplifies the Torah hermeneutic contained in 5.17–­19. At the same time, the condemnation of the Pharisees in 12.1–­8 reads like an illustration of the accusation that is implicit in 5.20. They fall short of the great commandments. The superordination of mercy over the Sabbath is illustrated further through the second Sabbath controversy that follows in Matt 12.9–­14 and at the same time expressed in a principle: “It is lawful on the Sabbath to do good” (12.12).88 Alongside the conflict over the Sabbath stands the controversy over purity in Matt 15, where the Pharisees and scribes from Jerusalem accuse Jesus’ disciples of transgressing the tradition of the elders, since they do not wash their hands before eating. By moving Mark 7.6–­7 and reformulating Mark 7.8–­9 according to the model of the accusation of the scribes and Pharisees in Matt 15.2, Matthew lets Jesus respond directly with a counterquestion or counteraccusation: “Why do you also transgress (, namely,) the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition?” (15.3).89 With this Matthew characterizes the conflict right at the beginning in such a way that here God’s commandment and Pharisaic regulation 86

Cf. Repschinski 2000, 100–­101, 305; Gielen 1998, 110. Put positively: Matt 12.1–­8 reveals—­as 12.9–­14 also does—­that the Sabbath is kept in the Matthean community. For this position, see also Barth 1975, 74, 75; Gielen 1998, 108, 112; Mayer-­Haas 2003, 446, 453, 489–­90. A different position is taken by Luck 1993, 144; Yang 1997, 228–­29; Tuckett 2011, 116–­22. On the interpretation of the insertion of μηδὲ σαββάτῳ in 24.20, see Wong 1991; Mayer-­Haas 2003, 454–­58; Konradt 2020b, 359–­60 (GV = 2015a, 374). 88 On this, cf. Mayer-­Haas 2003, 452. 89 Matthew’s rhetorical shaping conceals here the danger of a misunderstanding, namely, through the incorrect inference that the καί in v. 3 implies that the disciples also transgress the commandment of God. Matthew, however, is concerned to juxtapose the transgression of the tradition of the fathers, on the one side, and the transgression of the commandment of God for the sake of the tradition of the fathers, on the other side. Accordingly, the καί must be related solely to the fact that the scribes and Pharisees are also “transgressors,” though in their case—­in distinction from the disciples—­of the commandment of God. Thus, materially a caesura is to be placed after παραβαίνετε in v. 3, which is clarified in the translation above with the addition of “namely.” 87

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are set over against each other. The illustration of the counteraccusation in vv. 4–­6 underlines this.90 In Jesus’ position, by contrast, a categorical superordination of the social-­ethical commandment comes to the fore. This is underscored, first, by the teaching of the crowds in vv. 10–­11 and then of the disciples in vv. 15–­20. Immoral behavior is placed at the center of the discussion of impurity, and examples of such behavior are mentioned in v. 19, in dependence on additional Decalogue commandments.91 At the same time, the Matthean reworking of the Markan Vorlage shows a tendency not to let Jesus advocate an abrogation of the purity laws92 in principle but only the categorical rejection of Pharisaic halakah. Thus, Matthew has omitted93 the Markan commentary that Jesus declared all food clean (Mark 7.19)94 and instead has Jesus, at the end of his teaching as the reference point for the contestation of defilement, explicitly take up the opening theme, eating with unwashed hands (Matt 15.20b). For v. 11 this suggests that Matthew wants this statement to be related only to the case raised in v. 2.95 Accordingly, he could not take over the sweeping formulation of Mark 7.15a.96 Thus, the situation here is similar to what we find with the Sabbath. Matt 5.17–­20 is thus shown to be a programmatic saying that Matthew has 90

343–­46). 91

On the details, see section 2.3 of chapter 5 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016,

That is, after the commandment to honor one’s parents in v. 4. In this sense, see, e.g., also Hummel 1963, 48; Mayer-­Haas 2003, 477–­78; Luz 2001, 330, 335 (GV = 1990, 422, 428); Davies/Allison 1991, 517. 93 See also the Matthean changes in Matt 15.11 par. Mark 7.15 and in Matt 15.17 par. Mark 7.18 and on this the interpretation of Luz 2001, 332–­34 (GV = 1990, 424–­26), as well as the argument below. 94 By contrast, Broer 1986, 142, regards the omission of Mark 7.19c as “materially insignificant” (original emphasis). 95 Cf. Gnilka 1992, 24, 26–­27; S. von Dobbeler 2001, 68. A different position is taken by Broer 1980, 121; Thielman 1999, 67. 96 It is worth mentioning in this context that Matthew, in his new version of the healing of the possessed Gerasene from Mark 5.1–­20, keeps the herd of pigs far from Jesus through the replacement of ἐκεῖ πρὸς τῷ ὄρει (Mark 5.11) by μακρὰν ἀπ’ αὐτῶν (Matt 8.30), for this redactional intervention can be explained well if the renunciation of pork was common practice in the Matthean community. If ἐσθίοντες καὶ πίνοντες τὰ παρ’ αὐτῶν and/or ἐσθίετε τὰ παρατιθέμενα ὑμῖν in Luke 10.7–­8 go back to Q (cf. Robinson/Hoffmann/Kloppenborg 2000, 170), then the Matthean omission can be seen as another indication that Matthew avoids statements that could be understood as abrogating the purity commandments in principle (cf. Davies/Allison 1991, 174). On the other hand, I do not think we can read out of Matt 15, as Sim 1998b, 132 postulates, “that Matthew’s group strictly kept the dietary and purity laws of Judaism” (Konradt’s emphasis). And it certainly cannot be inferred from Matt 15.1–­20 that Matthew viewed the halakic regulation of handwashing as obligatory (against Gielen 1998, 165–­66). Here, attention must be given to the fact that washing the hands before eating is not stipulated at all in the Torah as a general requirement (on this, see section 2.3 in chapter 5 of this volume [GV = Konradt 2016, 344n104]). 92



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consistently implemented in the course of his telling of the story of Jesus.97 The instructions of the Torah and the Prophets are in force, but it is necessary to differentiate among them. At the same time, these controversies over the Law bring greater clarity to the front(s) that Matthew opposes in 5.17–­19. With respect to this question, two main variants compete with one another in scholarship on Matthew. According to one, Matthew opposes a libertine Christian group here.98 According to the other, the concern is with the rejection of the Pharisaic accusation that Christ-­believers do not act in conformity to the Torah.99 The latter view is firmly supported by the preceding sketch of the way in which Matthew presents the controversies over the Law with the Pharisees (in addition to 12.1–­14; 15.1–­20, see 19.3–­9; 22.34–­40 [discussed below]). Moreover, as we have seen, the series of antitheses in 5.21–­48 must also be read in this context of conflict. However, there are also indications that lend support to the first option. For example, the introduction with μὴ νομίσητε, insofar as this refers to a position that has been put forward, can most plausibly be understood as a reference to a potential false evaluation of Jesus in the circle of the followers of Jesus. Moreover, consideration must be given to the fact that within Christianity, Matthew was confronted, at the latest through the Gospel of Mark, with an understanding of the Law that he did not share and whose influence he sought to oppose.100 Matt 5.17 could be part of this ‘anti-­ Markan’ thrust, to which v. 19—­as specification or clarification—­also fits, since Mark 7.19 advocates the annulment of the food commandments in principle. These two ‘fronts’ do not exclude each other. On the one hand, in the inner-­Christian discourse, Matthew attempts to oppose the devaluation of the Torah.101 On the other hand, in the conflict with the Pharisees, 97 Gielen 1998, 164, rightly notes that the deletion of Mark 7.19c fits “into the fundamental acceptance of every stroke and iota of the Law (Matt 5.18–­19).” 98 See, by way of example, Barth 1975, 62–­70, 149–­54; Houlden 1994, 118–­19. An anti-­Pauline front is postulated by Heubült 1980, 145; Sim 1998b, esp. 207–­9; Theißen 2011, 471–­75. 99 See Overman 1990, 88–­89; Stanton 1992a, 49; Gielen 1998, 78–­79, 284; Eckstein 2001, 306. See also Eckstein 1997, 395 (with the inclusion of conservative Jewish Christians in the community); as well as Luomanen 1998, 90–­91. Thiessen 2012 has attempted to grasp the accusation of the Pharisees more concretely. He points out that the accusation of abolishing the Law occurs in contemporary Jewish texts in the context of the Hellenistic reformers and the persecution under Antiochus IV as well as in Josephus’ Jewish War as an accusation against the Zealots and that it is connected there with the destruction of the temple. Against this background, Thiessen suggests that the Matthean community was confronted with the accusation “that they were law-­abolishers who were responsible for the Temple’s destruction” (552). 100 On this, see Konradt 2016, 43–­68. 101 In this respect, the subvariant that v. 17 is specifically directed against Paul (see above) is entirely implausible, for such a front is not recognizable at any other point in the Gospel. See Konradt 2016, 69–­94.

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he responds to their criticism with a counter-­presentation in which Jesus and his disciples stand firmly upon the ground of the Torah. For the dispute with the Pharisaic opposition, it is characteristic that the fundamental affirmation of the validity of the entire Torah in 5.17–­19 is accompanied by the evangelist’s consistent distinction between small and great commandments. This Torah hermeneutic makes it possible for Matthew to marginalize certain ritual-­cultic commandments de facto, without advocating their abrogation in principle and having to concede the validity of the Pharisaic accusation, with the appeal to Hos 6.6 having central significance for the Matthean apology. Indeed, more than that, on the basis of this hermeneutic the counterattack can be made that, turning the accusation on its head, the Pharisees are blind guides in relation to the will of God in the Torah and the Prophets (cf. 15.14; 23.16, 24).102 To be sure, the thrusts of the arguments in 5.17–­19 and in the controversies over the Law discussed above are different insofar as in 5.17–­19 the principle validity of all the commandments—­including the small ones—­is emphasized in defense against accusations by the other,103 whereas the practice of evaluating between great and small commandments and thus the de facto superordinate meaning of love and mercy or the social-­ethical commandments in general comes to the fore in the controversies over the Law. But this does not change the fact that a consistent Torah hermeneutic becomes visible in the Gospel of Matthew. And it already becomes clear through the continuation of the unit with v. 20 that the (soteriologically) decisive aspect of the fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets consists in positively distancing oneself from the level of righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes, who neglect what is “greater” (cf. 12.6) or “weightier” (cf. 23.23) than ‘merely’ small commandments.104 Finally, Matthew has also integrated Jesus’ emphasis on love for God and love for neighbor as the summary of the Torah in 22.34–­40 into the unfolding of the conflict between Jesus and the Jewish authorities. The Markan version presents a friendly dialogue between Jesus and an understanding scribe, who positively affirms Jesus’ answer to his question about 102

The basis of this countercriticism is the fact that Matthew fixes the different programs of Jesus and the Pharisees on ἔλεος and θυσία (cf. Gielen 1998, 98–­99). 103 Put differently, in 5.17–­19 the accent is placed not on the fact that certain commandments are less important but on the fact that they, too, are to be kept in principle. At the same time, through the soteriological statement in 5.19 (the non-­observance of the small commandments does not determine one’s share in salvation but ‘only’ the grade of honor), its de facto secondary importance also already resonates here. 104 Reference may be made only in passing to the controversy over divorce in Matt 19.3–­9, where Matthew, through various interventions into the Markan Vorlage (again) seeks to avoid the impression of a conflict between Jesus and the Torah, which is close at hand in Mark. On this, see, by way of example, Repschinski 2000, 173–­83; Konradt 2020b, 286–­88 (GV = 2015a, 297–­99).



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the first commandment by repeating the monotheistic confession (Mark 12.32) and the double commandment of love (v. 33) and is praised, in turn, by Jesus for his understanding answer (v. 34). In the Lukan version the words of the understanding Markan scribe have a counterpart in the fact that in Luke it is not Jesus but the lawyer (νομικός) himself who adduces the double commandment of love.105 Characteristically, Matthew goes a different way here. It does not fit his conception to have a teacher of the Law who does not belong to the disciples put forward the commandments of love for God and love for neighbor as main commandments of the Torah. This insight is claimed exclusively for his own group. In Matthew, the friendly dialogue of the Markan version, which signals an ethical consensus, has become a conversation marked by hostility between a teacher of the Law designated as a Pharisee and Jesus. The lawyer tempts Jesus. In the Matthean composition, the question about the greatest commandment is the last of three attempts by the authorities who are hostile to Jesus to catch Jesus with a word in order to have something against him (22.15).106 The punchline of the Matthean phrasing of the answer of Jesus lies in the fact that he, first, explicitly places the commandment of love for neighbor (v. 39) on the same level with the commandment of love for God, which is quoted first as the greatest commandment, and, second, declares “these two” to be the “epitome of the Law”107 (v. 40). In Jewish writings, love for God or the worship of the one God repeatedly appears as the highest and most important part of the Law.108 Jesus’ answer joins this 105 See Luke 10.25–­28 (+ 29–­37). Luke’s version is presumably based on another version, which Matthew also knew alongside Mark. This conclusion receives support not only from the conspicuous minor agreements, especially the use of νομικός (Matt 22.35; Luke 10.25) and (ἐκ)πειράζειν (Matt 22.35; Luke 10.25), but also from the different placement of this pericope by Luke, who, as is well known, does not change the location of pericopes very often. Taken together, these observations turn the thesis of a second version into a plausible assumption (contrast, e.g., Kiilunen 1989). The possibility that Matthew and Luke found this second version in the sayings source (thus, e.g., Lambrecht 1995, 78–­88, 95) is only one option here. 106 While the scribe addresses Jesus in Mark because Jesus had answered the Sadducees well (Mark 12.28), it corresponds to the Matthean use of πειράζειν that in the Matthean introduction the Pharisees step in for the Sadducees, who had already been finished off, in order to make another attempt to lure Jesus into a trap (Matt 22.15). On the composition in Matt 22.15–­40 or 21.28–­22.46, see Konradt 2020b, 314–­15, 329–­30 (GV = 2015a, 327, 343). 107 Barth 1975, 73: “Inbegriff des Gesetzes.” A de facto reduction of the Torah to the double commandment (cf., recently, again the approach of Deines 2005, 400) is by no means suggested by Matt 22.40, as 19.18–­19 already demonstrates. Rather, the commandments of love for God and love for neighbor function—­in a similar way as the virtues of εὐσέβεια καὶ ὁσιότης and of φιλανθρωπία καὶ δικαιοσύνη in Philo (Spec. 2.63)—­as umbrella statements of the Torah, which at the same time define their hermeneutical center. 108 See Let. Aris. 132; Ps.-­Phoc. 8; Philo, Decal. 65; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.190.

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consensus and yet then immediately also places love for neighbor as a second thing together with love for God in the first place.109 Viewed within the overall context of the Gospel, this takes up the preceding emphasis on the social commandments, especially mercy.110 In light of the preceding controversies over the Law, this also opens up an approach to the difficult problem of how Matthew could designate the question of the teacher of the Law as a question that sought to tempt Jesus,111 since there is nothing un-­ Jewish about asking about the greatest commandment,112 and the suggestion that only the malevolence of the questioner is meant to be marked113 is a stopgap solution that comes into consideration only as an ultima ratio. As we have seen, the Matthean Jesus had appealed to Hos 6.6 twice in the preceding controversies. From the superordination of mercy over the temple and thus over the worship of God in the temple, the opponents could derive the accusation that care for human beings is emphasized here at the expense of love for God and thus that the worship of God is marginalized (see also Matt 5.23–­24). Moreover, reference must also be made to Jesus’ firm criticism of a superordination of oaths (made to God) over the commandment to honor one’s parents, as Jesus accuses the Pharisaic halakah of doing in 15.4–­6. If the question of the Pharisaic teacher of the Law in 22.35 is read against this background, then this opens up a possibility for understanding why Matthew presents the question as a catch question. The Pharisees attempt to entice Jesus to an explicit statement on the Torah that shows that he does not give God the honor that is due to him,114 that the worship of God does not have the highest priority for him. However, if Jesus answers in the sense of the central position of the worship of the one God, the Pharisees could take this as an opportunity to call Jesus’ preceding actions into question. 109

Burchard 1998a, 25, fittingly speaks of “equal rank despite difference.” On mercy as interpretation of love for neighbor, cf., by way of example, T. Iss. 5.2, where πένητα καὶ ἀσθενῆ ἐλεᾶτε in 5.2b is epexegetical to the preceding exhortation to love for neighbor (on this, see Konradt 1997, 305–­7; 2018a, 362). 111 Cf. the statement in Luz 2005c, 81 (GV = 1997, 277): “To be sure, it is difficult for the readers to see how his question is malicious.” A very similar perspective is expressed, for example, by Hummel 1963, 52. In the context of Luke 10.25, ἐκπειράζειν can indeed be understood in the sense of “test, put to the test.” In the framework of the Matthean conception in Matt 21–­23, however, πειράζειν clearly has the negative sense of “tempt.” 112 Cf. Luz 2005c, 82 (GV = 1997, 278). 113 Thus Davies/Allison 1997, 239: “Perhaps the verb simply serves to indicate bad faith.” 114 A different position is taken by Barth 1975, 71. The thrust is thus quite similar to that of the first catch question in 22.15–­22, where Jesus is asked whether it is permitted to pay tax to Caesar. Behind this stands the controversy of whether the payment of tax is compatible with the worship of the one God. 110



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With his reply Jesus succeeds in connecting his emphasis on the merciful care for the neighbor with the position of love for God as the main commandment. He first places himself in the ranks of the Jewish consensus,115 and thus he undermines the Pharisees’ attempt to set a trap for him;116 however, he then interprets this consensus by giving equal rank to love for neighbor, in the sense of his emphasis on merciful care for fellow human beings. From the broader context it becomes evident here that love for God is realized not in the intensification of the rules of purity, in the rigorous observance of sabbath regulations, or in the expansion of the tithe,117 but rather in the doing of the divine will, which consists centrally in the demand for mercy, so that love for God and love for neighbor, though they are not simply identical, cannot be played off against each other. And since the assignment of equal rank to love for neighbor takes up the preceding emphasis on mercy, there is at the same time, in Jesus’ answer to the question of the Pharisaic teacher of the Law, an echo of the accusation that the Pharisees do not give love for neighbor the rank that is due to it, as, after all, the last antithesis in Matt 5 already contains the accusation that they break off the leading edge of the radical demand of love for neighbor through their vulgar-­ethical interpretation. If one surveys the preceding remarks, then it becomes clear as a basic characteristic of Jesus’ elucidation of the divine will expressed in the Torah and the Prophets in the Gospel of Matthew that this mainly takes place in the framework of the conflict with the Pharisees and in demarcation from the Pharisaic interpretation of the Law. This is supported by two more texts in which Jesus presents himself as the one true teacher. First, Jesus teaches his disciples in 23.8–­12—­i.e., right in the middle of the speech against the scribes and Pharisees compositionally—­that they should not let themselves be called rabbi or teacher, because only one is their master and teacher, namely, Jesus himself. Second, reference must be made to Matt 11.25–­30. Jesus’ mild yoke (11.29–­30) is a metaphorical designation for Jesus’ mild and meek messianic rule, which, as one central aspect, implies his philanthropic interpretation of the Torah,118 as it is illustrated by the 115

Cf. Gielen 1998, 262, who says that with Matt 22.37–­38 “the question of the Pharisaic legal expert is initially answered, namely, in a way in which the fictive addressee may assume to be capable of achieving a consensus.” 116 If the statement about the “summary” of the Torah in Matt 7.12, which is related to Matt 22.40, is also incorporated, then, in comparison to 7.12, it is the love for God that is added in 22.34–­40! 117 Garden herbs or spices such as mint, dill, and cumin (Matt 23.23) do not (explicitly) appear in Lev 27.30; Deut 14.22–­23. Cf. also Neh 13.12: “Then all Judah brought the tithe of the grain, wine, and oil into the storehouses” (NRSV). 118 On this point, see further chapter 7 in this volume (GV = 2018b).

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Sabbath controversies that immediately follow.119 At the same time, the Pharisees who surface as adversaries in 12.1–­14 rank among the ‘wise,’ from whom God has hidden the understanding of the activity of Jesus as τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ (11.2; cf. 11.19).120 Moreover, the invitation of Jesus in 11.28–­30 is issued to persons who are laboring and are burdened. In the further course of the narrative, this receives a further elaboration in the woes against the scribes and Pharisees, for, according to 23.4, they tie up unbearable burdens and put them on peoples’ shoulders. Thus, Jesus’ invitation to come to him because his “burden is light” (v. 30) is again shaped by an anti-­Pharisaic polemic. While Jesus points the way to a perfect fulfillment of the Torah in 5.21–­48 through the unfolding of the meaning of the divine commandments against the contrasting background of the ignorance of the scribes and Pharisees, in 11.28–­30 he turns to those whom the scribes and Pharisees weigh down with burdens that are not only too heavy but are also useless, for they shut people out of the kingdom of heaven with their interpretation of the Torah (23.13; cf. 5.20). 3. The Controversies over the Torah in the Gospel of Matthew and the Situation of the Matthean Community The interpretive approach developed with reference to the antitheses has found confirmation through the incorporation of the debates over the Law in the Gospel of Matthew. It is not Jesus’ instruction and the Torah that are placed in (tense) juxtaposition with each other. Rather, Matthew fleshes out the contours of Jesus’ true unfolding of the divine will that is expressed in the Torah and the Prophets against the contrastive foil of the understanding of the scribes and Pharisees, which he regards as inadequate. The concerns of the evangelist that surface here undoubtedly reflect central matters of identity for the Matthean community and point to a current situation of conflict. The multibranched discussion about the situation of the community, especially with regard to its relationship to the Judaism of the day (or to other Jewish groups),121 cannot be discussed in detail here.122 In my view, the correct direction has been pointed out by Anthony Saldarini and J. Andrew Overman,123 who place the conflict that becomes visible in the Gospel of Matthew in the context of 119

On the connection between Matt 11.25–­30 and 12.1–­14, see Yang 1997, 143–­46, 160–­61; and, especially, Mayer-­Haas 2003, 421–­39. 120 On this referent of τὰ ἔργα τοῦ χριστοῦ in 11.25, see, by way of example, Novakovic 2003, 94. 121 On the intra/extra muros debate, see the survey of research in Repschinski 2000, 13–­61; and section 5 in chapter 1 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 37–­38). For Repschinski’s own position (intra muros), see 343–­49. 122 On this, see chapter 1 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 3–­42). 123 See esp. Saldarini 1994; Overman 1990. A different position is taken by Foster 2004.



The Perfect Fulfillment of the Torah and the Conflict with the Pharisees in the Gospel of Matthew 99

the processes of reformation in Judaism after the catastrophe of 70 CE. In the framework of this open situation, the Pharisees, on the one hand, and the Christ-­believing Matthean group, on the other hand, made competing claims to leadership. While the Pharisees were able to establish themselves as the dominant group in the synagogue, the Christ-­believers took shape as a less successful and apparently also harassed minority group in the ecclesia and understood themselves as the true and divinely legitimated representative of the eschatologically renewed (and still to be renewed!) people of God. The controversy over the Torah that runs through the Gospel, together with the explicit presentation of Jesus as the one teacher, is disclosed in its clearly delineated contours from this situational context. It does not require extensive justification to claim that in the early Jewish self-­understanding the ethos related to the Torah had a singular significance and that Sabbath and purity commandments, as Jewish ‘identity markers,’ had considerable weight, i.e., that the concern here was with points that were sensitive for Jewish identity in the Hellenistic-­Roman world. The Christ believers probably had to face the accusation that their halakic position surrendered central Jewish identity markers and did not stand on the ground of the Torah. The evangelist rejects this accusation and, in his counteroffensive, claims that it is precisely the community that brings to light the will of God expressed in the Torah and the Prophets in the right way. This claim finds expression in the fact that not only Jesus’ and, following him, his disciples’ fundamental conformity to the Torah is presupposed, but, going far beyond that, Jesus is presented as the one true teacher of the divine will that is expressed in the Torah and the Prophets, whose teaching makes the perfect fulfillment of the will of God in the Torah and the Prophets possible for his disciples. At the same time, Matthew counters the Pharisaic criticism with the counteraccusation that his opponents are completely ignorant and totally blind in relation to the actual will of God. In this constellation of conflict, there is no place for a nuanced portrayal of the position of the opponent. Rather, this position is stylized as the exact negative counterpart to the Torah interpretation of Jesus.124 In actuality, the Pharisees will by no means have been as blind as the Gospel of Matthew suggests. In short, we are dealing here with a comprehensive delegitimization of the other,125 and this is even more the case since they still, on the one hand, hoped to win the allegiance of undecided Jewish contemporaries and, on the other hand, sought to keep those who were wavering in their own ranks. 124 Cf. the previously noted observation that Matthew fixes the different programs of Jesus and the Pharisees on ἔλεος and θυσία (cf. Gielen 1998, 98–­99). 125 On Matt 23, in particular, in this context, see Saldarini 1992a.

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Viewed functionally, the postulate of the perfect fulfillment of the Torah, as it is described against this background in the antitheses, appears as the Matthean counterpart to the identity-­establishing function of the Pharisaic ‘boundary markers.’ The bidirectionally oriented demarcation motif in the commandment of love for enemies—­i.e., from the tax collectors and gentiles, on the one hand, and from the Pharisees, on the other hand (5.46–­47)—­makes this clear. If one surveys the extant early Jewish literature, it is conspicuous that references to the theme of perfection accumulate in the Qumran writings,126 where the community designates itself as “a house of perfection and of the truth in Israel” (1QS 8.9).127 Sociologically, we are also dealing here with a deviant group, and here too we find claims to the correct fulfillment of the will of God in the context of conflictual demarcations from other Jewish groupings (cf. 4QMMT). In distinction from Qumran, the idea of perfection as a motif of demarcation in the Gospel of Matthew is balanced out or softened with respect to insiders by the simultaneous intensification of the ethos of forgiveness (see, e.g., Matt 6.14–­15; 9.8; 18.21–­35).128 What is common is the demarcating identity-­establishing function of the perfection discourse in the context of group conflicts. This phenomenon can be illuminated further if one consults for the purpose of comparison the way that the idea of perfection is used in the Didache, which probably comes from the environment of the Gospel of Matthew. At the end of the two-­ways doctrine, it says: But if you are able to bear the whole yoke of the Lord,129 you will be perfect. But if you are not able, then do what you can.130

In light of the current conflict with the synagogue over the correct understanding of the Torah, it would scarcely have been possible for Matthew to keep such an option open for his community. In Matthew it is the perfect fulfillment of the will of God made possible through Jesus that is to distinguish the community from the Pharisaic variant of Jewish life as the true custodian and trustee of the theological heritage of Israel.

126

Cf. Meiser 2000, 204–­6. See further 1QS 1.8; 2.2; 3.3, 9–­10; 4.22; 8.10, 18, 20, 21, 25; 9.2, 6, 8, 9, 19; 10.21; 11.2, 17; 1QSa 1.17, 28; 1QSb 1.2; 5.22; CD 1.20–­21; 2.15–­16; 20.2, 5, 7; 1QH 9[1*].36; 12[4*].30–­32; 4Q403 Frag. 1 1.22; 4Q510 Frag. 1 1.9; 4Q511 Frag. 63 3.3 and elsewhere. 128 In the Qumran texts, by contrast, the demand for perfect conduct is accompanied by drastic specifications of punishment (see 1QS 6.24–­7.25). 129 The Old Testament law is in view here. On this, see Wengst 1984, 95–­96. 130 Did. 6.2; trans. Holmes 2002, 257. 127

5

The Reception and Interpretation of the Decalogue in the Gospel of Matthew Alongside the commandment of love for neighbor, which Matthew explicitly takes up no less than three times (Matt 5.43[–­48]; 19.19; 22.39), the references to commandments of the Torah in the Gospel of Matthew are strongly concentrated on the Decalogue, more specifically, on the Decalogue commandments that pertain to the interpersonal sphere.1 Decalogue commandments occur in a prominent position at the beginning of the series of antitheses in Matt 5.21, 27, are quoted in detail in the framework of Jesus’ encounter with a rich young man (19.18–­19), and play a central role in the context of Jesus’ dispute with scribes and Pharisees over the question of washing one’s hands before eating (15.1–­20). Since the question of the reception and interpretation of the Decalogue in the Gospel of Matthew can only be adequately answered when this is placed in the framework of the Matthean understanding of the Law as a whole, some brief remarks on Matthew’s Torah hermeneutic will precede the analysis of the aforementioned texts.2

1 The reception of the Decalogue in the New Testament elsewhere is also characterized by a concentration on the commandments that deal with interpersonal behavior. Cf., by way of example, Löhr 2002a, 35–­36. The Matthean understanding of the commandment of the sanctification of the Sabbath in Exod 20.8–­11; Deut 5.12–­15 (cf. Matt 12.1–­14 in connection with 11.28–­30 as well as 24.20) must be bracketed out here due to limitations of space. On this, see the investigation of Mayer-­Haas 2003, 411–­93. The possible connections to the Decalogue in Matt 5.33–­37 are briefly thematized in section 2.1.3 below (GV = Konradt 2016, 337–­40). 2 Due to limitations of space, I must forgo a presentation of the reception of the Decalogue in early Judaism (on this, see esp. Berger 1972, 258–­361; Stemberger 1989; Kellermann 2001). I will discuss instructive analogies at the appropriate points.

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1. Matthew’s Torah Hermeneutic A magnus consensus on the Matthean understanding of the Law cannot be registered. I mark out my own position here only as theses and in the form of a brief sketch.3 1) Matthew begins the discussion of the Torah in his Gospel in 5.17–­20 with a programmatic statement on the fundamental validity of the Torah with no ifs or buts. The christological dimension of meaning of the talk of the fulfillment4 of the Torah and the Prophets (5.17) points here to the fact that Jesus “does and teaches” (5.19) the Torah not merely like others before and alongside him; rather, his teaching first brings to light the content and intention of God’s proclamation of his will in the Torah and the Prophets in a fully valid way. When the risen one, in 28.20, instructs his disciples to teach the nations to keep all the things that he commanded them, then what is in view is not a new Torah that surpasses the Sinai Torah or “sublates”5 it in the double sense of the word.6 Rather, the First Evangelist understands Jesus’ teaching as the fully valid unfolding of the deeper meaning of the Torah.7 2) Matt 5.17 is not to be read merely as a rejection of a position that is critical of the Law within Christianity, as Matthew found it in his Markan Vorlage,8 but, beyond this, if not in the first instance, within the framework of the conflict between Jesus and the Jewish authorities, which runs through the Gospel of Matthew as a red thread,9 as a repudiation of the 3 For further justification, see chapter 4 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 288–­315). 4 On the one hand, reference may be made to the introductory formula of the reflection quotations (see Matt 1.22–­23; 2.15, 17–­18, 23; 4.14–­16; 8.17; 12.17–­21; 13.35; 21.4–­5; 27.9). On the other hand, the active formulation in Matt 5.17 has a counterpart in 3.15. 5 In German the word ‘aufheben’ can have the double meaning of ‘to cancel or abolish’ and ‘to preserve or maintain.’ In English, this word has been translated with a variety of terms, including ‘sublate,’ ‘sublimate,’ ‘annul,’ and ‘abolish.’ The translation ‘sublate/sublated’ is often used when both meanings are in view. In Hegel, this term also conveys the meaning ‘to raise up.’ See Magee 2010, 238. 6 For the opposing position, see Banks 1975, 218; Thielman 1999, 49, 69–­72; Deines 2005, 400, 434; and the presentation of their views in section 1.1 of chapter 4 of the present volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 291n17). 7 With this it is not said that the Matthean ethic can be exhaustively specified as the fully authoritative explication of the deeper sense of the Torah and the Prophets, for this does not capture other christological aspects that are relevant for Matthean ethics, as these come to expression, for example, in the discussion of life together in the community in Matt 18. See Konradt 2016, 381–­412; and section 2.1.1 of chapter 6 below (GV = Konradt 2016, 429–­32). See also the development of this point in relation to Matt 11.28–­30 in chapter 7 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2018b). 8 See section 2 of chapter 4 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 308). 9 On this, see Gielen 1998; Repschinski 2000; Konradt 2014b, 89–­166 (GV = 2007, 95–­180).



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103

Pharisaic opposition’s accusation that the Matthean community10 breaks the Torah with its teaching and practice. In his counterattack, the evangelist claims that the Torah is in principle comprehensively (5.18!) in force in the community.11 3) At the same time—­and this is the central aspect for the Matthean Torah hermeneutic—­Matthew makes a clear weighting in favor of social-­ ethical commandments, which leads to a de facto marginalization of segments such as the sanctification of the Sabbath and purity commandments. The prophetic saying from Hos 6.6 quoted in Matt 9.13 and 12.7 can be understood as the leitmotif of the Matthean Torah hermeneutic: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.”12 In the case of a conflict between two commandments, the weightier commandment must be followed.13 4) In the composition of the Sermon on the Mount, the series of six antitheses in 5.21–­48 serves the material unfolding of the programmatic statement of 5.17–­20. More precisely, on the basis of 5.17, Matt 5.21–­48 explicates the statement of 5.20 by juxtaposing in thesis and counterthesis the Torah interpretations that underlie the level of righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, on the one hand, and the “better” righteousness expected from the disciples, on the other hand. Accordingly, the concern 10

When we speak here—­in a simplifying manner—­of the Matthean community in the singular, it must be added that it is more likely that there was a circle of several (house) communities rather than a single community. 11 This constellation manifests itself as a consistent feature in the controversies between Jesus and the Pharisees. As the evangelist seeks to legitimate, on the foundation of the Torah and the Prophets, the plucking of heads of grain by the—­according to Matt 12.1 hungry (!)—­disciples through the superordination of mercy over the Sabbath from Hos 6.6 (on the details of the interpretation assumed here, see Konradt 2020b, 185–­89 [GV = 2015a, 191–­94]; and section 1.2.2 in chapter 6 below; see further Mayer-­Haas 2003, 439–­48), so he shifts the thematization of the food commandments in Mark 7.23 solely to the question of handwashing before eating (15.20) and thus transforms the Markan abrogation of the dietary laws (Mark 7.19) to a rejection of Pharisaic halakah (cf. Konradt 2020b, 231–­38 [GV = 2015a, 240–­46]; and section 2.3 below [GV = Konradt 2016, 343–­46]). 12 The hierarchization of the commandments is already intimated within the programmatic passage of 5.17–­20 in v. 19, when this verse speaks of one of these smallest commandments. This can be made materially more concrete, by way of example, through the saying in 23.23. While the scribes and Pharisees, who are attacked here, are very particular with respect to tithing (a small commandment), they neglect what is most important in the Law, namely justice, mercy, and faithfulness. The accusation that the scribes and Pharisees fall short of what the important commandments require in a serious way, i.e., in a way that bars them from salvation, is also implicit in 5.19–­20. According to 5.19, the one who relaxes the smallest commandment will be called the smallest in the kingdom of heaven, i.e., he receives less honor but will nevertheless enter salvation (on this interpretation, see section 1.1 in chapter 4 [GV = Konradt 2016, 29–­94]; for the counter-­position, see esp. Sim 1998a, 583–­84). If, by contrast, the scribes and Pharisees are barred from entering the kingdom of heaven according to 5.20, then their deficit must be more serious—­they disregard what is most important in the Law. 13 On this, cf. Matt 12.5–­7 (see Konradt 2020b, 185–­88 [GV = 2015a, 192–­94]).

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in the theses is not simply with the Torah but with the Torah as it is understood by the scribes and Pharisees.14 According to the Matthean understanding, Jesus’ instruction in the countertheses does not lead beyond the commandments of the Torah but rather liberates them from their inadequate interpretation and explicates the Torah in its true and full meaning. This approach is supported by the introduction to the theses, for the reference to the promulgation of the will of God at Sinai expressed with the wording ἐρρέθη (τοῖς ἀρχαίοις) is preceded by ἠκούσατε, which is most naturally related to the synagogal interpretation of the Torah on the Sabbath. In short, in the theses Jesus quotes what has been presented to his hearers as Torah by the scribes and Pharisees, i.e., what the disciples and the crowds have heard from them. Over against this interpretation, he presents in the countertheses what the promulgation of God’s will in the Torah means according to its deeper meaning and actual intention. With this sketch of the Matthean Torah hermeneutic, the ground is prepared for an analysis of the Matthean reception and interpretation of the Decalogue. 2. The Decalogue in the Gospel of Matthew 2.1 The Decalogue in the Series of Antitheses in Matt 5.21–­48 The two most prominent receptions of the Decalogue in the Gospel of Matthew occur in the framework of the first two antitheses. The preceding sketch of the Matthean Torah hermeneutic has already marked out an initial course-­setting for the understanding of the passage. Matthew does not understand the Decalogue commandments as an expression of a lower stage of general ethical orientation in the sense of basic minimal norms beyond which he wishes to lead his hearers through his instruction. Rather, the two Decalogue commandments—­as the prominent position of their reception at the beginning of the series of antitheses shows and as one would expect in any case within the early Jewish context—­constitute main points of the Torah for him, and the concern of Matt 5.17–­48 is with the proper understanding of them. In addition, it is necessary to consider the question of a possible connection to the Decalogue in the fourth antithesis. 14

In this vein, see also Hummel 1963, 50, 70–­75; Trilling 1969, 90–­91; Betz 1995, 205, 207–­10; Burchard 1998b, 40 (Matthew probably “did not see Old Testament quotations in the theses . . . but sentences of the ‘righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees’ ”); Sänger 1995, 91; Loader 1997, 172–­73; Schaller 2005; see also Kampen 1994. This thesis fits with the findings on the wording of the theses. On this, see Burchard 1998b, 40; and section 1.2 of chapter 4 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 296–­97).



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2.1.1 The Interpretation of the Prohibition of Murder

This thesis combines the quotation of the Decalogue’s prohibition of murder (v. 21b) with a legal proposition (v. 21c) that presents the legal consequence in the case of a violation of the commandment.15 If the theses function—­as explained above—­as a characterization of the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, then the attachment of the legal proposition in v. 21c serves to indicate a restrictive interpretation of the prohibition against murder,16 which the Matthean Jesus holds against the scribes and Pharisees. They understand the Decalogue commandment in such a way that first and only the one who murders is liable to judgment.17 It corresponds to the function of v. 21c in the thesis that Jesus’ counterthesis in v. 22 does not take up the Decalogue commandment directly but refers to its elaboration in v. 21c. With respect to the relationship of the three members in v. 22b–­d to one another, it is sometimes postulated that we are dealing with a climactic series that advances from a local court—­this is how κρίσις is to be interpreted according to this view—­via the Sanhedrin to the divine judgment.18 If it is interpreted in this way, then it seems reasonable to construct a corresponding climactic series also for the first part of each sentence. In the first case, the concern would be only with inner agitation, without this being expressed socially, while the second and third member would deal with cases of verbal aggression. In my view, this interpretation is not actually convincing. There is, at least, no significant intensification in content, between the two invectives in vv. 22c, d.19 Moreover, the relationship of the three terms for judgment in v. 22 do not suggest a climax. “Between 15

Ruzer 2005, 91–­96, postulates that Matt 5.21 takes up an interpretation that is based on a linking of Exod 20.13 with Gen 9.6 (on this interpretive tradition, see Berger 1972, 301–­2). 16 For this understanding, see also Betz 1995, 218; Nolland 2005, 229. According to Gnilka 1988, 153, the added legal proposition makes “conscious the fact that the process of tradition and interpretation is also reflected.” 17 It is conspicuous that in the legal proposition in v. 21 the degree of penalty is not specified (according to Exod 21.12; Lev 24.17, the death penalty is specified for murder; see also Gen 9.6; Num 35.16–­34; Deut 19.11–­13), but there is only a general reference to the judicial consequence. In light of the capital offense of murder, ἔνοχος ἔσται τῇ κρίσει expresses nothing more than what is self-­evident. The reason for this formulation of the legal proposition emerges from the opposition to the counterthesis in v. 22, where ἔνοχος from v. 22 reappears in all three members. The concern is to understand more broadly the states of affairs that can be liable to judgment. For this it requires as counterpart the general statement: he is liable to the judgment. By contrast, Jeremias 1968, 975–­76 (GV = 1990, 975–­76) relates all the ἔνοχος statements in v. 22 to the imposition of the death penalty. 18 Thus, among others, Strecker 1985, 69–­70; Gundry 1994, 85; Davies/Allison 1988, 515; Luck 1993, 67, 68; Wick 1996, 237. 19 The Aramaic insult ‫( ֵר ָיקא‬on ῥακά as transcription of the Aramaic word ‫ר ָיקא‬,ֵ see Jeremias 1968, 973–­74 [GV = 1990, 973–­74]), which means something like ‘numbskull,’ is

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‘Sanhedrin’ and ‘Gehenna of fire’ there is not a gradation but a qualitative shift from human-­earthly judgment to divine-­eschatological judgment.”20 Accordingly, in both v. 22b and in the thesis in v. 21, it is more plausible to interpret κρίσις as an umbrella term that is unfolded in two directions, namely, by συνέδριον as human court21 and by γέεννα τοῦ πυρός as eschatological tribunal. The judgment statements in 5.22c, d must be understood additively rather than alternatively. The one who insults another—­whether as numbskull (raka) or blockhead—­will be liable to earthly judgment and hellfire. Not least the formal difference between v. 22b, on the one hand, and vv. 22c, d, on the other hand, militates against a climactic understanding of v. 22. Verse 22b is formulated as a principle (πᾶς ὁ . . .). Verses 22c and d specify exemplary individual cases (“whoever does x . . .”). Syntactically they correspond exactly to v. 21c (cf. the presentation of the text below). In my view, these findings show that v. 22b functions as an umbrella statement for vv. 22c, d. And, vice versa, vv. 22c and d illustrate v. 22b. 21

Ἠκούσατε ὅτι ἐρρέθη τοῖς ἀρχαίοις· οὐ φονεύσεις·

22

ὃς δ’ ἂν φονεύσῃ,

ἐγὼ δὲ λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι

πᾶς ὁ ὀργιζόμενος τῷ ἀδελφῷ αὐτοῦ ὃς δ’ ἂν εἴπῃ τῷ ἀδελφῷ αὐτοῦ· ῥακά, ὃς δ’ ἂν εἴπῃ· μωρέ,

ἔνοχος ἔσται τῇ κρίσει. ἔνοχος ἔσται τῇ κρίσει. ἔνοχος ἔσται τῇ συνεδρίῳ ἔνοχος ἔσται εἰς τὴν γέενναν τοῦ πυρός

If vv. 22c, d are exemplary unfoldings of v. 22b, then it must be concluded further that v. 21c is also to be read as a subset of the principle of v. 22b.

followed by the Greek word μωρός in the concluding member, which does not have a sig�nificantly different meaning and is, like ‫ר ָיקא‬,ֵ a common insult. Cf. Gnilka 1988, 154–­55. 20 Luz 2007, 235 (GV = 2002a, 337). 21 In Matthew συνέδριον is by no means necessarily to be referred to the highest (Jewish) court in Jerusalem. In 10.17 Jesus warns his disciples against human beings, “for they will hand you over to συνέδρια”; here, local sanhedria are thus spoken of in the plural. For 5.22 this opens the option that there too nothing more than a local court is meant.



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Murder and insults are understood as articulations of anger.22 In that case, what must be emphasized in v. 22b is not “everyone who is angry with” (i.e., and not only everyone who murders) but rather “everyone who is angry with,” i.e., the angry person who (merely) expresses insults will be just as liable to the judgment as the angry person who murders. Here, anger means the basic attitude of rejecting another determined by aggression.23 The counterthesis discloses in this sense, first, the attitude that underlies murder and then from this standpoint also places articulations of this same attitude that lie below the threshold of murder under the verdict of being liable to judgment. As πᾶς ὁ ὀργιζόμενος in v. 22b already demonstrates, vv. 22c, d are meant exemplarily rather than exhaustively.24 More precisely, the mention of common insults as relatively harmless expressions of anger in connection with murder serves to mark out the framework from quite light to extremely severe angry behavior. Here, another point must be added. If, beyond the exterior action, the (inner) attitude and thus the whole person comes into view with the talk of anger, as has often been stressed,25 then it must simultaneously be emphasized that concrete behavior in the form of insulting utterances is addressed also in v. 22. Matthew does not speak of anger here merely as an inner emotion that does not express itself in a concrete social behavior.26 Or, put differently, anger is addressed in its social dimension.27

22 If this is correct, then it is imprecise to say that here “murder and anger” would be placed “on the same level” (Gemünden 2003, 114). 23 Cf. Trilling 1969, 95, who maintains that anger here “cannot mean . . . a sudden upsurge. The concern is with the basic attitude toward the brother, which is anger. We could also say the fundamental rejection.” 24 Accordingly, we should not speak of casuistry here (with Luz 2007, 236 [GV = 2002a, 338]; contrast, e.g., Strecker 1985, 70). 25 Cf. for many Luck 1993, 68; Loader 1997, 173–­74; Pennington 2017, 183; Branch-­Trevathan 2020, 213. 26 Cf. Nolland 2005, 230: “The introduction of anger here is not specifically to bring inner attitudes to the fore: the assumption is that this anger will find its expression and so will be manifest to those involved in the situation.” A different position is taken by Gemünden 2009, 176: “Not only the one who expresses his anger but also the one who is angry in his innermost being is liable to the judgment—­both the earthly and the heavenly one.” Cf. 2 En. 44.3a: “He who expresses anger to any person without provocation will reap anger in the great judgment” (trans. F. I. Andersen, OTP, 1:170; cf. Böttrich 1995, 960; for the interpretation, cf. Gemünden 2003, 114–­15, with n105). Seneca, De ira 1.1.5, refers to the fact that anger cannot remain hidden (“Other vices may be concealed and cherished in secret; anger shows itself openly and appears in the countenance”; trans. J. W. Basore, LCL, 109), but an aggressive action against another human being is not yet necessarily connected with this. 27 Cf. Gemünden 2003, 118–­19.

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It is evident that Matt 5.22 does not aim to express a realistic program for the construction of an earthly judicial system28 but rather must be understood as hyperbolic speech. Jesus furnishes the ethical with the binding force of the legal sphere. While the explication of v. 22b in vv. 22c, d begins with the earthly, human court, it transcends this with the varying repetition of v. 22c in v. 22d and puts forward with this the court that actually matters with regard to God’s commandments. The central judicial authority is the court of God (cf. 2 En. 44.3a).29 By contrast, the position of the scribes and Pharisees that is referred to in v. 21 considers the commandment in the horizon of human judicature, which then almost necessarily draws their merely literal understanding of the commandment after it: the prohibition of murder refers solely to the criminal offense of murder; a murderer, however, is to be brought to justice. As a legal principle that has validity in the divine court, however, the saying from the Decalogue is not to be limited to murder. Rather, before God the human being is called to account for every aggression against other human beings as an offense against the will of God. With a view to the interpretation of the prohibition of murder in 5.21–­22, we must therefore affirm the following. As standard of the divine judgment, the Law established by God in the prohibition of murder must be related comprehensively to all forms of aggressive behavior against one’s fellow human beings that is determined by anger. In the interpretation of Jesus, the Decalogue commandment thus functions as a sort of umbrella statement, which, with the reference to murder as the worst expression of anger, includes every kind of aggression against other human beings, beginning with verbal attacks in the form of common insults—­with “words that kill.”30 A narrow, merely literal understanding that considers the commandment merely as an earthly legal proposition and sees only murder addressed does not grasp the deeper intention of the commandment and accordingly misses the claim of the will of God formulated in it. While this expansion of the scope of meaning of the commandment is conspicuous in its concrete specification, in its approach it is by no means without analogy in the context of early Judaism. In his great commentary work Exposition of the Law, Philo expressed the idea that the Ten Commandments contained the whole Torah: they are not only laws themselves but at the same time also the basic principles of the entire Sinai legislation (Decal. 19). According to Philo, under the main commandment not to murder fall all the laws “about violence, insult, outrage, wounding 28

It is is obvious that every legal system would collapse if every small insult was immediately brought before the courts. 29 Cf. Luz 2007, 236 (GV = 2002a, 338). 30 Luz 2002a, 344: “tötenden Worten” (ET = 2007, 240: “deadly words”).



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and mutilation” (Decal. 170).31 Unlike Matthew, this enumeration does not also include the mere insult, but it nevertheless entails a not insignificant expansion of meaning. Beyond this, attention must be given to the fact that Philo, in the unfolding of the assignment of individual laws to the prohibition of murder in Spec. 3.83–­209, also places the prohibition of the seizure of the lower and upper millstone according to Deut 24.6: “For one who deprives another of the instruments needed to preserve existence is well on the way to murder, since his hostile intentions extend to attacking life itself.”32 The Decalogue commandment undergoes through this a far-­reaching though consistent application,33 alongside which we can place the expansive application of murder to the failure to give aid and the withholding of wages in 2 En. 10.534 and Sir 34.25–­27.35 While there is no explicit reference to the Decalogue in these texts,36 they nevertheless show the semantic expansion that the term ‘murder’ has undergone in the ethical reflection of early Judaism.37 31

Decal. 170; trans. F. H. Colson, LCL, 91. Spec. 3.204; trans. F. H. Colson, LCL, 603. 33 Only in passing may it be mentioned further that Philo even treats the case in which a woman rushes to help her husband who is fighting with another man and “seizes the genital parts” (Deut 25.11–­12) under the rubric of the prohibition against murder (Spec. 3.169–­177). To be sure, the fact that Philo also discusses insults in this context (174) shows no connection to the interpretation of the prohibition against murder in a way that would be analogous to Matt 5.21–­22. 34 In the enumeration of those for whom the place of punishment is prepared, 2 En. 10.5–­6 mentions, among others, those “who, when they are able to provide sustenance, bring about the death of the hungry by starvation” (trans. F. I. Andersen, OTP, 1:118). 35 “Bread is life for the poor when they are destitute; he who withholds it is a person of blood. One who murders his fellow (φονεύων τὸν πλησίον) is he who takes away a way of living and one who pours out blood is he who deprives the wages of a hired worker” (trans. B. G. Wright in NETS). 36 One could admittedly ask how sensible it is to note the absence of such an explicit connection. Or, put differently, should it not be assumed that the Decalogue was present in early Judaism (through regular liturgical use; on this, see Löhr 2002a, 30–­33; on the appearance of the Decalogue in tefillin and mezuzot before 70 CE, see Stemberger 1989, 95–­99) in such a way that an explicit reference was superfluous? 37 Reference may be made further to Ps.-­Phoc. 4, where, in the context of the Decalogue reception that opens the didactic poem in vv. 3–­8, the instruction μήτε δόλους ῥάπτειν is placed before the admonition μήθ’ αἵματι χεῖρα μιαίνειν, which makes reference to the prohibition of murder (cf. Sib. Or. 2.119). For δόλος in connection to homicide, reference is often made to Exod 21.14 and Deut 27.24 (Van der Horst 1978, 112; Niebuhr 1987, 17). However, it must be considered whether the influence of Lev 19.16 is present, which could be suggested by the juxtaposition of αἷμα and δόλος. Ps.-­Phoc. 4a could then be referred specifically to intentional false statements in court, which draw the death penalty after them for the accused. Such a connection does not exclude the influence of Homeric phrases such as φόνον ῥάπτειν (Od. 16.379), κακὰ ῥάπτειν (Od. 3.118–­119 [εἰνάετες γάρ σφιν κακὰ ῥάπτομεν ἀμφιέποντες παντοίοισι δόλοισι]; 16.423), or δόλον ὑφαίνειν (Il. 6.187) on the formulation (cf. Van der Horst 1978, 111; Thomas 1992, 98–­99, with n115; Wilson 2005, 80). Further, it is indeed possible not only to relate μήτε 32

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Under the rubric of the prohibition of murder, Philo also thematizes the case of bodily injury in the heat of passion with and without this resulting in death (Spec. 3.104–­107) and describes this case in such a way that someone is suddenly carried away by anger.38 Anger and murder are also connected to each other elsewhere.39 A special closeness can be registered in this regard between Matt 5.21–­22 and Did. 3.2. Did. 3.2 is part of a carefully composed series of τέκνον sayings, showing clear connections to the Decalogue40 and likely integrated into the two ways tractate by a Jewish δόλους ῥάπτειν to schemes that aim at the death of another, namely, on the basis of v. 4b or with a view to v. 4b, but also to understand it more broadly and also see forms of impure actions against others that lie below this threshold being addressed. In that case, Ps.-­Phoc. 4 could be placed in the series of extensions of the meaning of the prohibition of murder. It could support this view that the recourse to the prohibition of adultery in v. 3 is supplemented by the warning against love for men (cf. Ps.-­Phoc. 190–­191, 213–­214; cf., likewise in the framework of a reception of the Decalogue, Apoc. Ab. 24.5, 7; as well as Philo, Decal. 168; Spec. 3.37–­42; and Did. 2.2; cf. further Sib. Or. 3.764; 4.33–­34; 5.166, 430 [see also 3.594–­600]; Philo, Spec. 2.50; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.199; Wis 14.26; 2 En. 34.2; cf. further also, e.g., Musonius Rufus, Frag. 12: “Of other types of embraces, those involving adultery are the most unlawful, and those involving two males are no more tolerable, because they are bold transgressions against nature” [Larson 2012, 175; Hense 2010, 64]), which suggests that, as with Philo (Decal. 168–­169 and elsewhere), the Decalogue commandment is understood as the main statement of a whole thematic sphere. Irrespective of the question of the relationship between v. 4a and v. 4b, it should also be considered that the unit in vv. 3–­8, which refers to the Decalogue commandments, has a function that introduces and summarizes the whole poem (cf. Wilson 2005, 76–­77; see also Sänger 2001, 107–­8). Among other things, one could then find v. 4 continued in vv. 57–­58 (cf. the note on Ps.-­Phoc. 57 below). If one also consults the rabbinic literature, reference must be made especially to the equalization of verbal abuse and the shedding of blood in b. B. Meş. 58b: “Whoever embarrasses his fellow in public is as though he shed blood” (trans. Neusner 1990, 152; cf. Goldschmidt 1933, 634). A similar radicality is found in Der. Er. Rab. 11.15 with regard to human beings who hate: “One who hates his fellow, such a person belongs to the shedders of blood” (trans. Van Loopik 1991, 164). On this, cf. 1 John 3.15. 38 Ἐξαπιναίως ἁρπασθεὶς ὑπ’ ὀργῆς (Spec. 3.104). Cf. with θυμός Philo, Spec. 3.92. 39 Ps.-­Phoc. 57 exhorts the audience to bridle anger with the justification: “for often someone who has dealt a blow has unintentionally committed a murder.” On the connection of anger and murder in early Jewish Torah paraenesis, see further T. Dan 1.3–­4, 7–­8 (with θυμός); T. Zeb. 4.11 (cf. T. Sim. 2.6–­11). Cf. also the statements about hate in T. Gad 4.1–­7. 40 In Did. 3.3 there follows (analogously to Matt 5.27–­28) a reflection on adultery. Did. 3.5 addresses theft. Moreover, the remaining two members in Did. 3.2–­6 can also be connected to the Decalogue. The warning against idolatry in 3.4 corresponds to the prohibition against foreign gods (Exod 20.3–­6; Deut 5.7–­9). The warning against blasphemy can be connected to the commandment not to misuse the name of God (Exod 20.7; Deut 5.11; thus Kloppenborg 2005, 209) or to the ninth commandment (Exod 20.16; Deut 5.20; thus, Jefford 1989, 66). At the same time, the series conspicuously coincides with the series in b. Yoma 67b: “Our Rabbis taught: Mine ordinances shall ye do, i.e., such commandments which, if they were not written [in Scripture], they should by right have been written and these are they: [the laws concerning] idolatry [star-­worship], immorality and bloodshed,



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Christian revisional layer,41 to which the Gospel of Matthew also shows an affinity elsewhere.42 As Matthew 5.21–­22 presents murder as the worst expression of ὀργίζειν, Did. 3.2 similarly traces murder back to anger.43 The respective thrusts of the two texts converge in the fact that what must be stopped is not first murder but already anger or every articulation of anger.44 Neither Matt 5.22 nor Did. 3.2 know of a righteous or justified anger;45 anger is evaluated negatively in principle.46 Formally, however, the reception of the Decalogue commandment in the two texts is different. According to the motto ‘nip it in the bud,’ the series of τέκνον sayings admonishes against supposedly minor sins by showing that their end result is serious offenses, namely, the transgression robbery and blasphemy” (trans. L. Jung in Epstein 1938; cf. Goldschmidt 1930, 185). On the connection of Did. 3.2–­6 to the Decalogue, cf. Jefford 1989, 64–­65; Van de Sandt 1992, 25; Kloppenborg 2005, 201, 208, 209. The influence of the Decalogue can be noted further for Did. 2.2–­3 and for 5.1 (cf. Kloppenborg 2005, 207–­8). 41 With Niederwimmer 1993, 59–­63, I designate this level as Recension C. For the genealogy of the two ways tractate, see also Kloppenborg 2005, 195–­97. The interpolator need not, however, be the author of the series of τέκνον sayings. Rather, the taking up of a (Jewish) piece of tradition is not only possible but, in light of the closeness to early Jewish wisdom tradition (see esp. Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs) and the special formal shape of the series, even probable (cf., e.g., Jefford 1989, 63, 68; Van de Sandt 1992; see further also Kloppenborg 2005, 196). By contrast, Vögtle 1936, 197 regards Did. 3.1–­6 as a “composition of the Christian author.” 42 In Recension C (see above) the fundamental commandment of love for God (cf. Barn. 19.2) is expanded to the double commandment. The designation of the commandments as πρῶτον and δεύτερον (Did. 1.2; cf. Mark 12.29, 31; Matt 22.38–­39) probably points here to a “Christian” hand (cf. Draper 1985, 272; Kloppenborg 1995, 98; Niederwimmer 1993, 91; a different position is taken by Van de Sandt/Flusser 2002, 158n58). Affinity to the Gospel of Matthew is present in the fact that in Did. 1.3 the Golden Rule is attached to the double commandment of love and functions, as in Matt 7.12, as a summary formulation of the will of God (on this, see Konradt 2016, 107). 43 Did. 3.2 is composed of two members that have been shaped in parallel, which respectively include an admonition and a statement of justification: Μὴ γίνου ὀργίλος in 3.2a is taken up by μηδὲ ζηλωτὴς μηδὲ ἐριστικὸς μηδὲ θυμικός in 3.2b (cf. Niederwimmer 1993, 127, who regards ζηλωτής etc. as a variation to ὀργίλος in 3.2a); the statement of justification ὁδηγεῖ γὰρ ἡ ὀργὴ πρὸς τὸν φόνον is reinforced by the statement ἐκ γὰρ τούτων ἁπάντων φόνοι γεννῶνται in 3.2a. For reflections on anger (ὀργή/θυμός) and its consequences, cf. further, e.g., Prov 15.18 (ἀνὴρ θυμώδης παρασκευάζει μάχας); 29.22 (ἀνὴρ θυμώδης ὀρύσσει νεῖκος ἀνὴρ δὲ ὀργίλος ἐξώρυξεν ἁμαρτίας); Sir 28.8–­12. 44 In the composition of Did. 3.1–­6 this is undergirded by the opening exhortation to flee from all evil and all that resembles it (3.1). With this we can compare the fact that in Matt 15.19 the talk of διαλογισμοὶ πονηροί is placed before the enumeration of vices that is oriented to the Decalogue. 45 See, e.g., 1 Macc 2.44; 2 Macc 10.35; Sir 26.28LXX. See further also Sir 1.22 (on the interpretation, cf. Gemünden 2003, 101, with n29). 46 Cf. Sir 27.30LXX; 28.3. Thus, Did. 3.2 and Matt 5.2 are at the same time close to the Stoic tradition. On this, see Gemünden 2003, 99–­100.

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of the Decalogue commandments of the second table (Did. 3.2–­3, 4) as well as idolatry (3.4) and blasphemy (3.6).47 Thus, the warning against anger here explicates not the content of the commandment itself but rather appears as a sort of protective measure, in order to avoid the danger of transgressing the commandment itself.48 For the Matthean Jesus, by contrast, the prohibition of anger is contained in the Decalogue commandment itself. As explained above, the concern here is with an expansive understanding of the commandment itself. The fact that the Matthean Jesus connects the anger incriminated by the prohibition of murder with the behavior of speech (as initial stage) fits into the finding that anger and speech are also connected with each other elsewhere.49 If one draws things together, then it becomes evident that different lines of tradition are creatively brought together in Matt 5.21–­22, namely, (a) the expansion of what is meant by murder (Sirach; 2 Enoch) or the expansive interpretation of the Decalogue prohibition of murder as umbrella statement of the Torah,50 (b) the connection of murder and anger (Ps.-­Phoc. 57–­58; T. Dan 1.3–­4, 7–­8; Did. 3.2), and (c) the connection between anger and speech behavior. The fact that anger is revealed as the common denominator of murder and insulting speech behavior gives rise to a new radical interpretation of the prohibition against murder. On the one hand, a diverse embedding of Matt 5.21–­22 in tradition complexes of early Jewish instruction comes to light.51 On the other hand, in the inclusion of every interpersonal aggression and degrading of another in the prohibition of murder, a distinctive profile of Matt 5.21–­22 also becomes evident, obtaining a special incisiveness through the formulation of v. 22 in the form of legal propositions. However, as noted above, the level of the earthly practicable legal statement is intentionally abandoned. If vv. 23–­26 must be read as a further unfolding of the meaning of the Decalogue commandment, then its radical interpretation is further 47 On parallels to the form of the admonition in Did. 3.2–­6 in rabbinic literature and in the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, see Van de Sandt 1992, 27–­30. 48 Niederwimmer 1993, 125n7, ascribes a greater radicality to the Jesus tradition, for, in his view, this says “anger is already murder,” whereas Did. 3.2 merely says “anger leads to murder” (original emphasis). This, however, scarcely reflects an accurate understanding of what is said in Matt 5.21–­22 (see above). 49 See Plato, Phaedr. 254C; Seneca, De ira 1.4.3; 3.6.1–­2; 14.5; Plutarch, Mor. 90B–­C; Pss. Sol. 16.10; 1QS 5.25; Josephus, J.W. 3.438–­439; Col 3.8; Jas 1.19–­20. 50 However, in Philo’s Exposition of the Law, and probably also in Ps.–­Phoc. 4, the element of a (possible) consequence of death from the behavior forms the common denominator. 51 As a supplement, reference can be made to the fact that Sir 22.24LXX adduces invectives as a preliminary stage to murder (“Preceding a fire there are a furnace’s vapor and smoke; so preceding bloodshed there are abuses” [trans. B. G. Wright in NETS]). On the equalization of verbal abuse and the shedding of blood in b. B. Meş. 58b and on the placement of haters in the series of shedders of blood in Der. Er. Rab. 11.15, see above.



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intensified here insofar as the evangelist converts the prohibition of murder, beyond the inclusion of all manifestations of anger, also into the positive commandment that one should settle disruptions and strive for reconciliation. Verses 23–­24 clothe this concern in the portrayal of a case that simultaneously makes clear the categorical superordination of the social sphere over the cult in the Gospel of Matthew.52 If a person is about to present an offering and it then occurs to him that someone has something against him, he should—­even then—­leave the offering there and first be reconciled with the “brother.”53 In this way the significance of the peaceful configuration of interpersonal interaction is succinctly highlighted and the indissoluble connection between social behavior and worship of God is marked.54 In distinction from vv. 21–­22, the concern in vv. 23–­24 is with the negative attitude that another harbors against the person who is admonished. The reason for the disruption of the relationship is not addressed here, and it is also not explained whether or to what extent the resentment of the other is justified, for example, as the result of an insult by the one who is addressed. The exhortation “be reconciled with your brother!” thus appears as a fundamentally valid principle. The short passage from the sayings source (Q 12.58–­59) attached in vv. 25–­26 continues the theme of overcoming a conflictual relationship. What is in view now, however, is the situation of a debt lawsuit. Jesus’ admonition here initially sounds like a sapiential recommendation inspired by utilitarian considerations. The debtor has a vital interest in reaching an extrajudicial agreement.55 However, the exhortation probably works on two levels.56 The concern is with the short time until the judgment of God, which human beings should use to make friends out of opponents.57 To conclude: Matt 5.21–­26 goes de facto beyond the original meaning of the Decalogue commandment.58 Matthew, however, does not want the 52

On this, cf. above all the aforementioned double quotation of Hos 6.6 in Matt 9.13; 12.7. That this prioritization is not a Matthean special opinion is shown not only by Hos 6.6. Rather, see also, e.g., Isa 58.1–­8; Jer 6.20; 7.3–­11; Prov 15.8; 21.3, 27; Sir 34.21–­24; 35.1–­12. 53 A rejection of the cult, however, is not present in Matt 5.23–­24. After the reconciliation a person should go and offer the gift (v. 24). Cf. Davies/Allison 1988, 518. 54 Thus, Matthew again places himself into a basic motif of Jewish thinking. To honor God and to treat his creatures with contempt is a contradiction in itself (cf. Prov 14.31; 17.5; 2 En. 44.1–­2; 52.1–­6). Rather, whoever honors God seeks reconciliation and peace with his creatures. 55 Cf. Luz 2007, 241 (GV = 2002a, 345). 56 With Luz 2007, 241 (GV = 2002a, 345). 57 Cf. Strecker 1985, 71; Luz 2007, 241 (GV = 2002a, 345–­46); Gnilka 1988, 151, 157; Nolland 2005, 234. 58 To this extent and yet also only to this extent the observation of Davies/Allison 1988, 511, is correct: “Jesus now goes beyond the teaching of the sixth commandment to demand an end to anger and hateful speech.”

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instruction of Jesus to be understood as a surpassing of the commandment but as an unfolding of its meaning. The Matthean Jesus offers not only an extremely expansive understanding of the behavior incriminated by the prohibition of murder but, beyond this, also turns the prohibition into a positive commandment by exhorting his hearers to overcome disruptions of social relationships through reconciliation. The commandment of love for enemies will take up this idea in detail later (cf. 5.43–­48). In other words, the prohibition of murder is turned into something positive in the horizon of the love commandment.59 The latter thus functions as a bracket in the antitheses.60 2.1.2 The Interpretation of the Prohibition of Adultery

Unlike what we find in v. 21, in v. 27 only the Decalogue commandment is quoted in the thesis. Here too, however, the concern in the counterthesis is not with surpassing the commandment but with grasping its full sense in demarcation from a restrictive interpretation. While in v. 21 the restrictive interpretation was signaled through the addition of the legal proposition in v. 21c, in vv. 27–­28 this emerges from the counterthesis. For in distinction from v. 21–­22, Jesus’ instruction takes up the verb of the Decalogue commandment and defines what is included in it. Thus, a different way of referring to the quoted Decalogue commandments in the counter-­theses corresponds to the formal difference between the theses in v. 21 and v. 27. As a criticized counterpoint to the definition of when adultery is already present in v. 28, v. 27 implies a definition in which adultery is first present with the consummation of sexual intercourse with another (married) woman.61 In this understanding, everything below this threshold falls outside of the field of vision; it would in any case not be grasped by the seventh commandment. The Matthean Jesus, by contrast, interprets the commandment in such a way that for him gazing upon the wife of another man62 with sexual intentions in mind is forbidden. One will hardly go wrong in postulating 59

Cf. Luz 2007, 240 (GV = 2002a, 344); Nolland 2005, 228, 231–­32. Cf. Gnilka 1988, 157. 61 This same position is advocated by Loader 2005, 14; Nolland 2005, 236: “The implied interpretation that is opposed is the limitation of the adultery command to the physical act of adultery.” 62 Since the concern, according to the specification of the theme in the thesis of v. 27, is not with sexual immorality (πορνεία) in general but with adultery, γυνή in v. 28 means the wife of another man. Thus, the concern here is neither with flirtations among persons in love nor with reflection on sexuality in marriage (on this, cf. below) but with desiring the wife of another. Nothing is said here about sexuality in itself. On the interpretation of γυνή in Matt 5.28, cf. Luz 2007, 244 (GV = 2002a, 350); Nolland 2005, 236; Loader 2005, 14. Contrast Hagner 1993, 120: “any ‘woman’ and not simply the wife of another.” 60



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that with πρὸς τὸ ἐπιθυμῆσαι αὐτήν the tenth commandment flows into the interpretation of the prohibition against adultery.63 For understanding this infinitive construction, it is central that this phrase—­already on the basis of the analogies to this construction in the Gospel of Matthew (6.1; 13.30; 23.5; 26.12)—­is to be interpreted as expressing purpose rather than result.64 Thus, what is in view here is not desire as the consequence of looking at a woman, i.e., the concern is not that looking at a woman triggers an inner desire.65 Rather, the theme is that a desirous look is cast upon the wife of another,66 that she is “desired” in a concrete interpersonal action. Details, such as the question of whether or how mutual eye contact takes place (in that case, a look that aims to seduce could be in mind), are not explained. Matthew concentrates on communicating that—­irrespective of whether the look is ‘successful,’ i.e., whether the desired wife takes note of it and reacts to it positively—­the offense of adultery is already present with the desirous look, for the man has already committed adultery in his heart. Here, heart is understood in the sense of biblical anthropology as the personal center of the human being, as the site of his thinking and willing.67 The phrase ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ makes clear that the whole man with his inner disposition is taken into view here. At the same time, it must be stressed that analogously to v. 22 the focus is on concrete behavior also in v. 28. The fact that adultery has already been committed in the heart becomes visible in the desirous look or can be deduced from this. As in 15.19, where immoral behavior, including adultery, comes “out of the heart,” here too the desirous look points to the disposition of the heart, which is aimed at adultery. If what was said above on πρὸς τὸ ἐπιθυμῆσαι αὐτήν (v. 28) is drawn upon again, then the meaning of ἤδη ἐμοίχευσεν αὐτὴν ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ can be grasped even more precisely, insofar as it is demarcated from an interpretation that is not backed by the text. The statement that adultery is already committed in the heart indicates that a person had already inwardly decided to commit adultery. The desirous look proceeds from the heart that has decided to commit adultery. However, this expansion of the ‘fact’ of adultery does not also imply that adultery is likewise present in the case in which the sight of a woman ignites desire.68 For in 63

On this, see Loader 2004, 20–­21. This same position is advocated by Luz 2007, 244–­45 (GV = 2002a, 350–­51); Loader 2005, 15. 65 On this, see, e.g., Sus 7–­8 (LXX: οὗτοι ἰδόντες γυναῖκα ἀστείαν τῷ εἴδει . . . καὶ ἐπιθυμήσαντες αὐτῆς; Theod.: καὶ ἐθεώρουν αὐτὴν οἱ δύο πρεσβύτεροι καθ’ ἡμέραν εἰσπορευομένην καὶ περιπατοῦσαν καὶ ἐγένοντο ἐν ἐπιθυμίᾳ αὐτῆς). Cf. also Prov 6.25LXX and, with respect to the subject matter, T. Reu. 3.9–­12. 66 Correspondingly, βλέπων means not the accidental but the intentional look. 67 Cf. Luz 2007, 196 (GV = 2002a, 285). 68 As explained above, this case is not thematized in v. 28. 64

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this case it is still possible that the affected person will master his “desire,” so that it does not grow into a disposition of the heart, i.e., does not become a ‘resolution of the heart’ aimed at adultery, which is then followed—­at the next opportunity—­by a corresponding action.69 By contrast, the desirous look that is evaluated as adultery by Jesus is proof of the fact that room had been given to desire in such a way that it has taken possession of the “heart” and determines the person center. If the beginning of the counterthesis in v. 28 with πᾶς ὁ plus participle—­analogous to v. 22—­is taken into account, then the option should be considered that the emphasis, as in v. 22, lies on πᾶς. In that case, it is necessary to interpret the verse to mean that the person whose desirous look is reciprocated is not the only one or the first one to be guilty of adultery, namely, in the case in which it ultimately leads to sexual intercourse, but every person who looks upon the wife of another with desirous intent is an adulterer. If we again pose the question of how the Matthean Jesus’ interpretation of the commandment relates to tendencies in early Jewish ethical reflection, then a significant closeness becomes visible again. Analogous to the prohibition of murder, reference must also be made here to the fact that in Philo the prohibition of adultery has experienced a considerable expansion of meaning in the course of his understanding of the Decalogue commandments as the summary of the whole Torah. It appears as an umbrella statement over all sexual-­ethical instructions.70 This function is connected to the fact that Philo regards sexual wrongdoings as a whole as 69

Gundry 1994, 88 sets the accent differently: “The phrase ‘in his heart’ precludes a toning down of Jesus’ statement by limiting it to lust that has begun to take steps toward its satisfaction.” Taken strictly, v. 28 also does not include the case in which someone desires another woman (in his fantasy) but does not let it be noticed (cf., e.g., Epictetus, Diatr. 2.18.15–­16). A different position is advocated by Foster 2004, 103 (“Jesus’ pronouncement broadens the understanding of what constitutes adultery, by encapsulating not only physical acts but also inward thoughts”); and Nolland 2005, 235 (“the adultery commandment is expanded to include indulgence in illicit sexual activity in the realm of the imagination” [Konradt’s emphasis]). 70 See esp. Philo, Decal. 168–­169: “In the other set the first head is against adultery, under which come many enactments against seducers and pederasty, against dissolute living and indulgence in lawless and licentious forms of intercourse. The characteristics of these he has described, not to show the multiform varieties which incontinence assumes, but to bring to shame in the most open way those who live a disreputable life by pouring into their ears a flood of reproaches calculated to make them blush” (trans. F. H. Colson, LCL, 89, 91). For the development of the program, see Spec. 3.8–­82. In addition to the systematic approach of Philo, one can point out that also elsewhere additional sexual ethical admonitions have been added to the reception of the prohibition of adultery. Thus, in Ps.-­ Phoc. 3 and in Sib. Or. 3.764 the allusion to the prohibition against adultery is expanded to the rejection of homoerotic intercourse (see also Apoc. Ab. 24.5, 7).



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an expression of a lack of control of lust.71 Also in other early Jewish writings, the view is directed not merely to consummated sexual intercourse. Instead, the ethical reflection also includes preliminary stages and aims comprehensively at the sexual disposition. Here too, Did. 3 is especially important. Verse 3a traces back πορνεία to ἐπιθυμία (cf. πρὸς τὸ ἐπιθυμῆσαι αὐτήν in Matt 5.28); v. 3b mentions, alongside the αἰσχρολόγος, the ὑψηλόφθαλμος, by which adulteries (μοιχεῖαι) are produced. With respect to Matt 5.28, the connection between adultery and lustful look must be noted.72 The lustful look is also a theme elsewhere on multiple occasions in early Jewish literature.73 An especially close affinity to Matt 5.28 is reflected in the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs. According to T. Benj. 8.2, someone “who has a 71 In Decal. 121–­131, Philo begins the justification for why adultery is “the greatest of crimes” among the actions prohibited by the second table of the Ten Commandments (121) and therefore why the prohibition of adultery opens the second table with the argument that adultery has φιληδονία as its source (122). This is supported in the development of the prohibition of adultery in Spec. 3.8–­82 by the fact that the front placement of the prohibition of adultery is explained by the fact that ἡδονή is widespread everywhere in the inhabited world (3.8). On this basis, Philo can even reproach overly passionate conjugal intercourse (3.9; cf. 3.34–­36, 113; on this tendency, cf. Musonius Rufus, Frag. 12 [Hense 2010, 64; Larson 2012, 175]; Tob 8.7LXX; T. Iss. 3.5; Ps.–­Phoc. 193–­194; Ps.-­Philo, De Jona, 148; Josephus, J.W. 2.161; and 1 Thess 4.3–­5). 72 In the case ὑψηλόφθαλμος we must not necessarily think specifically of the voyeur (see the translation in Lindemann/Paulsen 1992, 7; as well as Wengst 1984, 71n16). It is at least equally possible that lustful seductive eye-­contact (with a woman) is meant. Schöllgen 1991, 107, translates with “do not have lusting eyes”; Ehrman 2003, 421, translates with “nor be . . . lecherous.” On the subject matter, cf. T. Iss. 7.2 and the attestations below. 73 In Wisdom literature the lustful or seductive look is sometimes blamed on women (Prov 6.25; Sir 26.9, 11LXX; 4Q184 Frag. 1 13–­14). A negative picture of women appears with special sharpness in T. Reu. 5.1–­6.4 (see right at the beginning in 5.1 the sweeping statement “women are evil”; on this, cf. Küchler 1986, 158–­62, 441–­45). According to T. Reu. 5.3, Reuben was taught through the angel of God “that women are more easily overcome by the spirit of promiscuity than are men. They contrive in their hearts against men, then by decking themselves out they lead men’s minds astray, by a look they implant their poison (καὶ διὰ τοῦ βλέμματος τὸν ἰὸν ἐνσπείρουσι), and finally in the act itself they take them captive” (trans. H. C. Kee, OTP, 1:784; on this, cf. Konradt 2014a, 269–­74, esp. 271–­72). In Virt. 34–­41 Philo offers a haggadic elaboration of Num 25.1–­2 in which he adduces the intentional seduction of Israelites through the beauty of women—­though contrived by the Midianite men (in connection with Num 31.16 as advice of Bileam, by contrast, in Philo, Mos. 1.294–­301; Josephus, Ant. 4.129–­132; LAB 18.13–­14)—­as a warning example and, among other things, explains that women enticed the Israelites through meretricious looks (βλέμμασιν ἑταιρικοῖς) (40). By contrast, in Pss. Sol. 4.4a the man is criticized: “His eyes are on every woman indiscriminately” (trans. R. B. Wright, OTP, 2:655). See also Job 31.1 as well as 1QS 1.6; CD 2.16. In addition, the exhortation not to regard the beauty of a woman is common (see, e.g., Sir 9.8; 25.21LXX; T. Reu. 3.10–­12; T. Jud. 17.1; cf. also T. Iss. 4.4).

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pure disposition in love does not look at a (married?) woman74 for sexual immorality (οὐχ ὁρᾷ γυναῖκα εἰς πορνείαν), for he has no defilement in the heart (ἐν καρδίᾳ)” (cf. ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ in Matt 5.28). Similarly, the pure farmer Issachar explains within the framework of his confession of innocence (T. Iss. 7.1–­6) right at the beginning: “Apart from my wife I did not have sexual intercourse with any woman; I did not fornicate through the raising of my eyes (οὐκ ἐπόρνευσα ἐν μετεωριστῷ ὀφθαλμῶν μου)” (7.2).75 While T. Benj. 8.2 can be understood to mean that the look leads to sexual immorality, it is clear in T. Iss. 7.2 that the desirous look upon another woman76 itself is already evaluated as πορνεύειν. It cannot be determined with certainty whether eye contact is what is envisaged here or whether it means to gaze back at a woman. Matt 5.28 can be placed in this tradition of sexual-­ethical reflection.77 In Matt 5.28, however, with the resumption of μοιχεύειν from v. 27—­instead of the semantically more open πορνεύειν of T. Iss. 7.2—­looking upon a married woman is specifically thematized,78 and concretely the transgression of the Decalogue commandment is specified.79 The Decalogue prohibition of adultery is directed not only against the completed act, but an adequate understanding must instead begin with the attempt to commit 74

Since T. Benj. 8.2 speaks not about μοιχεία but more comprehensively of πορνεία, it can be asked whether γυνή must be understood more broadly here than in Matt 5.28. 75 On the formulation, cf. the statement about the “good man” in T. Benj. 6.3 (οὐ πλανᾶται μετεωρισμοῖς ὀφθαλμῶν) and, further, Sir 23.4LXX. In a context that is clearly sexual, the motif of the raising of the eyes occurs in Jub 39.5: “And Joseph was good-­looking and very handsome. And the wife of his master lifted up her eyes and saw Joseph and desired him. And she begged him to be with her” (trans. O. S. Wintermute, OTP, 2:128). 76 In context T. Iss. 7.2b probably refers to the “other” woman mentioned at the end of 7.2a, i.e., it does not include the eye-­contact with a man’s own wife, although a more comprehensive understanding cannot be ruled out in light of texts such as T. Iss. 2.3; 3.5; and Tob 8.7 (on this, cf. above). 77 At the same time, it must be maintained that Matt 5.28 stands over against a strand of tradition that is hostile to women in early Jewish wisdom traditions. For the seductive behavior in Matt 5.28 is not attributed to the woman (see above). Rather, the man is blamed. Cf. Pss. Sol. 4.4a. 78 Early Jewish ethical instruction is strictly opposed to going to prostitutes. Adultery, however, is regarded as much more serious than intercourse with prostitutes (cf., e.g., Prov 6.26–­35; Sir 26.22LXX; and, above all, Philo, Ios. 43–­44. According to Philo, Spec. 3.64, the crime of dishonoring a widowed woman is “less serious than in adultery, of which it may be said to be the half” [trans. F. H. Colson, LCL, 515]). This does not mean, however, that μοιχεύειν in Matt 5.28 necessarily signifies a worse offense in comparison to πορνεύειν in T. Iss. 7.2. According to early Jewish understanding, the talk of πορνεύειν or πορνεία encompasses every form of extramarital sex, such as going to prostitutes as well as μοιχεία in the sense of sexual intercourse with the wife of another man. 79 On this, cf. Lev. Rab. 23 (122b): “Also the one who commits adultery with his eyes will be called an adulterer.” The influence of the Decalogue has been postulated for Issachar’s confession of innocence in T. Iss. 7.2–­6 (see Ebersohn 1993, 76; as well as Sänger 2001, 102–­3).



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adultery and take the disposition into view. Only in this way will justice be done to the deeper and actual intention of what is commanded.80 In Jewish antiquity, sexual intercourse with the wife of another was not only a moral but also a justiciable offense.81 Unlike in vv. 21–­22, the legal consequence in vv. 27–­28 is not, however, invoked. However, in the expansion of the actual counterthesis (v. 28) in vv. 29–­30, where Jesus’ instruction turns to the question of how adultery (in the sense of v. 28) is to be avoided,82 there is reference again to the (punitive) judgment of God, to “Gehenna.” Thus, analogous to the first antithesis, it must be affirmed that, as a legal proposition that is valid in the divine judgment, the prohibition of adultery cannot be limited to the consummated act of sexual intercourse. Rather, before God the human being is already called to account for every action that pursues sexual aims toward a married woman as a violation against the will of God. In order that it does not come this far, 5.29–­30 gives drastically formulated instructions. The case invoked in v. 29a (εἰ δὲ ὁ ὀφθαλμός σου ὁ δεξιὸς σκανδαλίζει σε), with the talk of the eye as the organ that leads to sin, directly picks up πᾶς ὁ βλέπων in v. 2883 and addresses precisely the aspect that, according to the interpretation above, was not (yet) in view in v. 28. With the case that the eye causes one to sin, the desire ignited by the sight of a woman now becomes the theme. The apodosis explains how one is to react in order to hinder the misstep. The admonition to tear out the eye (or cut off the hand, v. 30) is difficult to take literally,84 as if Jesus were recommending partial self-­mutilation so that the whole human being will not be ruined in the judgment of God, but must be understood in the sense of a hyperbolic, metaphorical way of speaking.85 What is meant is simply that when one is attracted to the wife of another, one should avert one’s eyes or 80

The embeddedness of Matt 5.21 in tendencies of early Jewish Torah instruction underscores again, from the side of tradition history, the fact that Jesus’ counterthesis should not be understood in the sense of a surpassing of the Torah commandment but rather as its interpretation. The fact that according to the Matthean context a merely literal understanding of the commandment is imputed to the scribes and Pharisees belongs to the setting of conflict of the First Evangelist. 81 Lev 20.10 and Deut 22.22 specify the death penalty for the adulterer and for the woman (see further, e.g., Philo, Spec. 3.11; Hypoth. 7.1; Josephus, Ant. 3.274–­275; Ag. Ap. 2.215), but this cannot be applied (in a sweeping manner) to early Jewish legal practice (on this, see, by way of example, Loader 2012, 6–­9). 82 Cf. Nolland 2005, 239, who maintains that in 5.29–­30 the concern is with “the avoidance of (any repetition of) the sin of adultery (in the extended sense that has been insisted on).” 83 In distinction from the inner-­Matthean parallel of 5.29–­30 in 18.8–­9 (par. Mark 9.43–­47), here the saying about the eye is placed first for the sake of the direct connection to 5.28. 84 Cf., e.g., Gnilka 1988, 162; Luck 1993, 70; P. Fiedler 2006, 138. 85 Cf., by way of example, Davies/Allison 1988, 524.

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go away86 before the desire takes possession of the disposition of the heart and the mere glance becomes the casting of a desirous or seductive look. “This difference from v. 28 corresponds to the fact that the charge of adultery is not repeated, which in turn confirms the interpretation of v. 28. Verse 29 then deals with the stage that precedes v. 28.”87 Verse 30 is to be understood in an analogous way. With the talk of the hand that causes one to sin, we are to think of the springing up of the desire to touch the wife of another. The exhortation to cut off one’s hand is again a hyperbolic expression for the fact that in such a case one must resolutely turn away so that it does not lead to a corresponding action with which the fact of adultery would then be present. In short, the drastic metaphor of tearing out the eye and cutting off the hand intensifies the importance of the instruction. If the fact of adultery is already given when someone casts a desirous look on a married woman, then one must take care to immediately eradicate an emerging longing. Let me draw an interim conclusion. Matthew presents Jesus in 5.21–­30 with the aid of the example of two weighty Decalogue commandments as the true interpreter of the will of God expressed in the Torah against the contrasting foil of a merely literal understanding of the commandments as the addressees have heard (ἠκούσατε) it from the scribes and Pharisees (v. 20). In scholarship, Jesus’ position is often designated as an intensification or radicalization of the commandment.88 If one connects with this a surpassing of the commandments, then this does not, in my view, grasp the Matthean position exactly. To me, it seems more adequate to speak of a radical or expansive interpretation of the commandments that plumbs their deeper intention. 2.1.3 The Prohibition of Oaths in Matt 5.33–­37 and Its Possible Connection to the Decalogue

In addition to the clear findings in Matt 5.21–­26, 27–­30, a connection to the Decalogue in the framework of the series of antitheses has been considered for the prohibition of oaths in Matt 5.33–­37. No commandment is literally quoted in v. 33. However, with texts such as Lev 19.12 (for v. 33b) and Num 30.3; Deut 23.22 (for v. 33c), the thesis has a Pentateuchal basis (for v. 33b, cf. further, e.g., Zech 8.17). Moreover, as parallels to the 86

The motif of avoiding contact is attested multiple times in early Jewish tradition. See, e.g., Sir 9.8–­9: “Turn away your eyes from a shapely woman, and do not gaze at beauty belonging to another; many have been seduced by a woman’s beauty, and by it passion is kindled like a fire. Never dine with another man’s wife, or revel with her at wine; or your heart may turn aside to her, and in blood you may be plunged to destruction” (NRSV; cf. further Sir 41.22–­23LXX; T. Reu. 3.10–­12; 6.1–­3). Jesus, however, does not speak of an avoidance of contact in principle (cf. Luck 1993, 70). 87 Konradt 2020b, 87 (GV = 2015a, 88). 88 See for many Pratscher 2001, 194–­95; and Löhr 2002a, 36.



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formulation οὐκ ἐπιορκήσεις in v. 33b, reference can be made to Ps.-­ Phoc. 16 (μὴ δ’ ἐπιορκήσῃς μήτ’ ἀγνὼς μήτε ἑκοντί) and, especially, to Did. 2.3 (οὐκ ἐπιορκήσεις), which suggests that this warning against false oaths was at home in early Jewish paraenesis and thus that this was the context of Matt 5.33b. Verse 33c is especially close to Ps 49.14LXX. The construction of ἀποδιδόναι with τοὺς ὅρκους in v. 33c is unusual, for, based on common usage—­as, for example, in Ps 49.14LXX—­we would expect τὰς εὐχάς.89 Matthew, however, apparently wanted to place the statement in a uniform way under the thematic aspect of the oath, which shows that the thesis was constructed on the basis of the prohibition of oaths and thus as a counterpart to the counterthesis. At the same time, this suggests that the antithetical clothing of the prohibition of oaths is secondary.90 The non-­antithetical paraenetic form in Jas 5.12 thus represents the more original version. If the option of a connection to the Decalogue in Matt 5.33–­37 is pursued, then—­despite the juxtaposition of οὐκ ἐπιορκήσεις and οὐ ψευδομαρτυρήσεις in Did. 2.3—­we are scarcely to think (primarily) of the ninth commandment in Exod 20.16,91 but (in the first instance) of the third commandment in Exod 20.7.92 For false oaths and oaths or vows that were not kept must not only be viewed in their social dimension as offences against fellow human beings but at the same time—­indeed, above all—­as offences against God, because God’s name is desecrated and misused (Lev 19.12). Correspondingly, Philo gives a prominent place to the question of oaths in Decal. 82–­95 in connection with the third commandment not to misuse the name of God (cf. Spec. 2.2–­38) and, in the framework of the overview of the assignment of the individual commandments to the Ten Commandments in Decal. 157, explains that under the third he includes directions as to all the cases where swearing is forbidden and as to the time, place, matters, persons, state of soul and body which justify the taking of an oath, and all pronouncements concerning those who swear truthfully or the reverse.93

Finally, it is especially instructive that Philo and Josephus offer closely related paraphrases of the third commandment. Thus, Philo designates the 89

Cf. Dautzenberg 1981, 52 with attestations. For this position, see also Dautzenberg 1981, 50–­52. 91 A different position is taken by Strecker 1985, 8. Against the option of a connection to the ninth commandment, see, e.g., Gnilka 1992, 51; and, above all, Dautzenberg 1981, 51, who fittingly states with a view to Matt 5.33 that “the language of the eighth commandment [according to the Lutheran numbering] is echoed nowhere and—­this is decisive—­in distinction from Greek and modern legal conventions, neither the Old Testament nor Judaism knows of a witness statement under oath.” 92 See, e.g., Nolland 2005, 248. 93 Philo, Decal. 157 (trans. F. H. Colson, LCL, 85). 90

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third commandment in a reference back to the first four commandments in Spec. 2.224 as “prohibition . . . against perjury or vain swearing in general (τὸ περὶ τοῦ μὴ ψευδορκεῖν ἢ συνόλως μάτην ὀμνύναι),”94 and Josephus, in his paraphrase of the Decalogue in Ant. 3.91–­92, says that the teaching of the third commandment is “not to swear by God on any frivolous matter (ἐπὶ μηδενὶ φαύλῳ τὸν θεὸν ὀμνύναι).”95 This convergence makes the assumption likely that we are dealing here with a more widespread tradition of interpretation. This is confirmed by the corresponding paraphrases in Targum Onkelos and Targum Pseudo-­Jonathan on Exod 20.7.96 With a view to Matt 5.33–­37 it must, to be sure, be conceded that, in distinction from 5.21, 27, there is no explicit reference to the Decalogue commandment. However, in light of the tradition-­historical findings, it is plausible to assume that such a connection was given for Matthew and that his readers or hearers received this in a corresponding way. An implicit recourse by Matt 5.33–­37 to the interpretation of the third commandment receives further support from the fact that the sanctification of the name of God is also the central reference point in the oath replacement formula in Matt 5.34b, 35, as the three grounding statements show. Heaven is “the throne of God” (Isa 66.1; cf. Pss 11.4; 103.19); earth is “the footstool for his feet” (Isa 66.1); Jerusalem is “the city of the great king” (Ps 48.3). The common reference point of the three grounding clauses in vv. 34b, 35a, b is the notion of the kingdom of God.97 In the context, the function of the clauses is to highlight the fact that the replacement formulas provide no escape from the problem of the desecration of the name of God, for the reference to God is also given in these cases. This reinforces the fact that with the prohibition of oaths the concern is fundamentally with the preservation of the holiness of the name of God (cf. Matt 6.9!),98 which human beings should not appropriate for the purpose of reaffirming their speech. As an aside, it may be noted that with the categorical exclusion of heaven and earth as oath replacement formulas, Matt 5.34–­35 and Jas 5.12 bar a path that Philo thinks can be taken (Spec. 2.5). If an implicit recourse to the third commandment is assumed, then it is possible to speak again of a radical or rigorous interpretation that picks 94

Philo, Spec. 2.224 (trans. F. H. Colson, LCL, 445–­46). Josephus, Ant. 3.91–­92 (trans. H. S. J. Thackeray, LCL, 360–­61). 96 Cf., by way of example, Dautzenberg’s observation that the third commandment became “virtually the classic place for the teaching on oaths and for the criticism of oaths” (Dautzenberg 1981, 53). 97 Cf. Vahrenhorst 2002, 265. 98 Cf. Luz 2007, 264, 265 (GV = 2002a, 375, 376); Vahrenhorst 2002, 262, 275; as well as Dautzenberg 1981, 55: “The series of excluded oath witnesses in Matt 5.34b–­36; Jas 5.12b also makes clear—­though in shortened form in comparison to the Jewish criticism of oaths oriented to the third commandment—­that the prohibition of oaths was meant to prevent every utilization of God for human averments of truth.” 95



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up early Jewish tendencies. Thus, Philo goes beyond the content of Lev 19.12 in Spec. 2.224 insofar as he understands not only swearing falsely but also already frivolous swearing as prohibited by the third commandment. The latter can be connected to the deplorable custom of ‘much swearing,’ which Philo criticizes firmly: “There are some who . . . have an evil habit of swearing incessantly and thoughtlessly about ordinary matters where there is nothing at all in dispute, filling up the gaps in their talk with oaths” (Decal. 92).99 Josephus, Ant. 3.91, and the Targums point in the same direction. ἐπὶ . . . φαύλῳ in Josephus, Ant. 3.91, corresponds here to the ἐπὶ ματαίῳ in Exod 20.7LXX (οὐ λήμψῃ τὸ ὄνομα κυρίου τοῦ θεοῦ σου ἐπὶ ματαίῳ). Matt 5.33–­37 continues this expansion of the prohibition of swearing falsely to the prohibition of swearing in unimportant matters and negates the reinforcement of speech through an oath in general.100 For using God’s name through an oath to reaffirm the truthfulness of one’s words always already points to an existing problem of truthfulness and thus draws God into the sinful reality of human life with one another and against one another. As we have seen, the oath replacement formulas offer no escape from this problem. Conversely, where God’s name is hallowed by human action being consistently determined by his will, oaths and vows are obsolete. 2.2 The Decalogue in Matt 19.18–­19 The most extensive quotation of Decalogue commandments in the New Testament occurs in the pericope of the rich young man in which five commandments are listed.101 The Matthean version of the pericope exhibits significant changes vis-­à-­vis the Markan Vorlage. By deleting ἀγαθός in the address of Jesus in v. 16 and supplementing the question of the rich man to τί ἀγαθὸν ποιήσω, the reference to the goodness of the one God in Jesus’ reply in v. 17 receives a fundamentally altered reference point and a new function, for it now prepares for the quotation of the Decalogue commandments.102 The good that is to be done defines itself on the basis of the good God, and this means—­as becomes clear through the further answer of Jesus—­on the basis of the God who has made known his will in the gift of the commandments. For Matthew has 99

On this problem, cf. Sir 23.9–­11! A tendency in this direction becomes clearly evident in Philo, Decal. 84, for, according to Philo, “To swear not at all is the best course and most profitable to life.” For him, “to swear truly” is only “the second-­best voyage.” Philo does not, however, expand his critical stance toward oaths into a categorical prohibition of oaths. 101 Rom 13.9 quotes four commandments, whereas Jas 2.11 quotes only two. 102 As a basis for the Matthean intervention it is also necessary to consider the possibility that Matthew regarded the self-­distancing of the Markan Jesus from being ἀγαθός as christologically problematic. 100

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Jesus continue with an explicit reference to the keeping of the commandments as the condition for entering into eternal life: “If you want to enter into life, keep the commandments.” If the Markan Vorlage is consulted, we can see here, by way of example, the Matthean view—­which is fundamentally different in comparison to Mark—­of the place and significance of the Torah and here especially of the Decalogue commandments. The Markan Jesus, in his first reply to the rich man, does not formulate a criterion for entering into eternal life but directs him merely to his knowledge of the commandments for which he adduces several Decalogue commandments by way of example. In response to the rich man’s answer that he had kept these from his youth, the Markan Jesus states that the rich man still lacks one thing. Thus, in Mark the fulfillment of the Decalogue commandments appears merely as an initial stage that for entrance into eternal life must be supplemented with the fulfillment of Jesus’ demand to sell all his possessions for the benefit of the poor and to follow Jesus.103 In Matthew, by contrast, Jesus already answers the opening question of the rich man in principle with the words “keep the commandments.” In Matthew, what follows appears as a clarification of what exactly is meant by the entrance condition “keep the commandments.” Since the question of the rich man is already sufficiently answered by Jesus’ first reply, the dialogue in Matthew must be given a new impetus through the rich man’s follow-­up question, in which he asks which commandments Jesus has in mind. Through this question, the subsequent quotation of the Decalogue commandments104 pertaining to the interpersonal sphere,105 which Matthew supplements with the commandment of love for neighbor, implies at the same time a clear emphasis on the social-­ ethical main statements of the Torah. This emphasis already came to light in 5.17–­48. Moreover, it is reflected in the double quotation of Hos 6.6 (Matt 9.13; 12.7) and in the explicit equal placement of love for neighbor alongside the highest commandment of love for God (22.39). Finally, it 103

Cf. Löhr 2002b, 346; Repschinski 2009, 192–­93. On the one hand, Matthew deleted μὴ ἀποστερήσῃς (Mark 10.19), which is not a Decalogue commandment. On the other hand, he adjusted the linguistic form to the LXX (οὐ φονεύσεις instead of μὴ φονεύσῃς etc.). 105 By contrast, it would be imprecise to speak of Decalogue commandments of the second table. If Philo is followed, then the commandment to honor one’s parents belongs to the first table. More precisely, this commandment “he placed on the border-­line between the two sets of five; it is the last of the first set in which the most sacred injunctions are given and it adjoins the second set which contains the duties of man to man” (Decal. 106). Philo grounds this with the fact that “parents by their nature stand on the border-­line between the mortal and the immortal side of existence, the mortal because of their kinship with men and other animals through the perishableness of the body; the immortal because the act of generation assimilates them to God, the generator of the All” (107). 104



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is also polemically expressed in a nutshell through the accusation against the scribes and Pharisees in Matt 23.23: the tithing (cf. Lev 27.30; Deut 14.22–­23) even of garden herbs is juxtaposed with the neglect of the βαρύτερα τοῦ νόμου—­namely, justice, mercy, and faithfulness. In short, in the Matthean context, the special weight of the quoted commandments comes to light with particular clarity. The fulfillment of these commandments is the criterion for entering into eternal life.106 Since the commandment of love for neighbor in 22.34–­40, through the Matthean attachment of v. 40, is explicitly highlighted as the summary of the commandments that pertain to the interpersonal sphere, it stands to reason that it also has this function in 19.19, i.e., that it summarizes the quoted Decalogue statements,107 which, for their part, as we have seen, appear as soteriologically relevant main statements of the Torah. With the exception of the commandment to honor one’s parents, the quoted Decalogue commandments are all prohibitions. By attaching the love commandment to these as the highest summary, the prohibitions are turned into positive commandments, as this already came to light in 5.21–­26 with the prohibition of murder. Thus, the practice of the Decalogue commandments cannot be restricted to avoiding missteps in relation to others, but it also simultaneously realizes itself in the turning to others under the banner of love. If this is correct, then a broad understanding of the Decalogue commandments is also implicit in Matt 19.18–­19. This can be supported further if one pursues the continuation of the dialogue. In Matthew, too, the rich man claims to have kept all the quoted commandments. In Matthew, however, it is not Jesus who points out to him that he lacks something. Rather, Matthew transforms the Markan Jesus’ statement ἕν σε ὑστερεῖ (Mark 10.21) into a question of the rich man, who says this out of the certainty of his fulfillment of the commandments: Τί ἔτι ὑστερῶ; (Matt 19.20). In Jesus’ reply, Matthew then introduces the demand of the renunciation of possessions and the call to follow him with the words “if you want to be perfect.” Since Jesus does not acknowledge the departure of the rich man due to this demand (v. 22) by stating that he will be denied only higher soteriological blessings but the concern continues to be with the fundamental question of entering into heaven (vv. 23–­25), it must be concluded, in light of the clearly formulated criterion in v. 17, that the rich man, against his claim in v. 20, had not kept the commandments108 or at least that he did not pass the crucial test of his claim, with which he was confronted through Jesus’ demand in v. 21. 106 Matt 5.19 confirms that there are “small” commandments whose neglect does not block one from entering the kingdom of heaven (for the interpretation, cf. section 1 above and section 1.1 in chapter 4 of this volume). 107 Cf. for many Berger 1972, 445–­46. 108 Cf. Yarnold 1968, 271; Weren 2008, 189.

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If this is correct, then it also becomes evident again from a different angle why Matthew has attached the love commandment in v. 19. Matthew did not want to let the demand of Jesus from Mark 10.21 appear as a higher stage that transcended the commandments109 but as an unfolding of the will of God, as it is laid down in the Torah. Put differently, the demand to renounce possessions to the benefit of the poor interprets what it means for the rich man, in his concrete situation, to fulfill the Torah perfectly in the sense of the love commandment.110 It fits with this interpretation that the motif of perfection is also connected to the interpretation of the commandment of love for neighbor in 5.48. Perfection for Matthew is based on the perfect fulfillment of the Torah—­hermeneutically focused in the love commandment—­according to the interpretation of Jesus. Thus, following Jesus and fulfilling the commandments are not different things for Matthew. Rather, Matthew understands the fulfillment of the commandments in the interpretation of them mediated by Jesus as an integral component of following him.111 Thus, the pericope of the rich man, fundamentally reworked by Matthew, fits seamlessly into the programmatic passage in 5.17–­48, i.e., this pericope in Matthew offers another illustration of the fact that Jesus has come not to abolish the Torah and the Prophets but to fulfill them, and it illustrates what fulfilling the Torah means concretely. In distinction from Mark, keeping the commandments does not appear as a preliminary stage—­which is soteriologically insufficient in its own right—­to the attainment of salvation. Rather, with respect to the keeping of the commandments, Matthew differentiates between different positions. The rich young man embodies—­like the scribes and Pharisees in 5.20–­48—­a merely superficial understanding of the commandments, which is illustrated by means of his foundering on the love commandment in the understanding of Jesus. For the Decalogue commandments quoted in 19.18–­19, it must analogously be concluded that in its quotation, the Matthean Jesus presupposes the expansive understanding presented in the antitheses, whereas the assertion of the rich man—­nourished by self-­ deceptive certainty—­that he had kept the commandments is based precisely on an insufficient understanding of their meaning. 109 A different position is taken by Sand 1986, 396; by Luck 1993, 215–­17; and also by Maschmeier 2021, 291: “The perfection shows itself in this narrative in the fact that the behavior required by Jesus naturally presupposes the doing of the commandments, but also goes beyond this.” 110 Cf. Meisinger 1996, 40–­41; Meiser 2000, 198; Deines 2005, 391; and Konradt 2016, 99–­100. 111 For a different interpretive approach, see Fuller 1989, 246; Hoppe 1991, 159–­64; as well as Cuvillier 2009, 156–­57.



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2.3 The Recourse to the Decalogue in the Controversy over the Washing of Hands before Eating in Matt 15.1–­20 In Matt 15.20 a fundamental reworking of the Markan Vorlage is also visible, with which Matthew has adjusted the text to his position on the Torah. In distinction from Mark, Matthew does not develop the controversy over the washing of hands before eating—­which is not commanded in the Torah112 (!)—­into an abrogation of the food laws in principle, which, in the Matthean context, would stand in contradiction to 5.18. Thus, Matthew omitted the Markan commentary that Jesus declared all foods clean (7.19c). Instead, he has Jesus explicitly take up the opening theme, eating with unwashed hands, at the conclusion of his teaching as reference point for the contestation of defilement (Matt 15.20b). For v. 11a this suggests that Matthew either relates this statement only to the case put forward in v. 2 or, alternatively, holds the nuanced position that food defiles not the human being as a whole but only his stomach.113 Accordingly, he could not take up the categorical and sweeping formulation of Mark 7.15a (οὐδέν ἐστιν ἔξωθεν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου εἰσπορευόμενον εἰς αὐτὸν ὃ δύναται κοινῶσαι αὐτόν). It corresponds to this that Matthew, in Matt 15.17, also deleted the categorical statement of Mark 7.18–­19 that everything that from outside enters into the human being cannot defile him and has only taken over the statement that everything that goes into the mouth goes further into the stomach and is expelled into the latrine. As Ulrich Luz accurately notes, Matthew’s abbreviations of the Markan text here are “too unified in content for us to describe them simply as stylistic tightening of the material.”114

112 According to Exod 30.17–­21 the priests should wash their hands in a bronze basin set up specifically for this purpose before they go into the tabernacle or to the altar (cf. Josephus, Ant. 8.86–­87). Moreover, it becomes clear from Lev 15.11 that the washing of the hands protects one from the transmission of impurity. But there is not a general commandment to wash the hands before eating for lay persons. Accordingly, the behavior of the disciples does not touch upon the validity of the iota or stroke of the Torah (Matt 5.18) but only, as is correctly highlighted in the exposition of the conflict in Matt 15.2–­3, the “tradition of the elders.” For a compact discussion of the rabbinic discussion on the impurity of the hands, see Vahrenhorst 2002, 396–­401. 113 Thus Luz 2001, 333 (GV = 1990, 425). 114 Luz 2001, 334 (GV = 1990, 426). On this position, cf. further Luz 2001, 332–­33 (GV = 1990, 424–­25); as well as Gnilka 1992, 24, 26–­27; Davies/Allison 1991, 517; S. von Dobbeler 2001, 68. A different position is taken, for example, by Broer 1980, 121; Thielman 1999, 67. I do not, however, think we can read out of Matt 15, as Sim 1998b, 132 postulates, “that Matthew’s group strictly kept the dietary and purity laws of Judaism” (Konradt’s emphasis). And it certainly cannot be inferred from Matt 15.1–­20 that Matthew viewed the halakic regulation of handwashing as obligatory (against Gielen 1998, 165–­66). In this sense, see, e.g., also Hummel 1963, 48; Mayer-­Haas 2003, 477–­78; Luz 2001, 330, 335 (GV = 1990, 422, 428).

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At the same time, the categorical superordination of social-­ethical commandments over cultic commandments and here the primary orientation to the commandments of the Decalogue that pertain to the interpersonal sphere also surface clearly in Matt 15.1–­20. Matthew has Jesus directly counter the scribes and Pharisees’ accusation that Jesus’ disciples transgress the tradition of the elders (15.2) with a counterquestion or accusation: “Why do you also transgress (, namely,) the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition?” (15.3).115 In this way, Matthew, right at the beginning, pointedly juxtaposes the halakic tradition of the Pharisees (15.2; cf. Josephus, Ant. 8.297), which is later devalued as human rules through the Isaiah quotation (Isa 29.13) quoted in vv. 7–­9, and the commandment of God. The subsequent illustration of the counteraccusation through the reference to the (possible) conflict between a vow and the commandment to honor one’s parents takes this up.116 In the introduction to the quotation of the commandment to honor one’s parents, Matthew has replaced Μωϋσῆς εἶπεν (Mark 7.10) with ὁ θεὸς εἶπεν (Matt 15.4) and thus identified God as the giver of the commandment, as it corresponds to the presentation in Exod 20.1, 18–­22.117 Above all, however, Matthew has formulated the halakah of his opponents quoted by Jesus in vv. 5–­6a as a direct contradiction to the Decalogue commandment: Οὐ μὴ τιμήσει τὸν πατέρα αὐτοῦ (v. 6a).118 Thus, in Matthew’s presentation of their Torah interpretation, the vow can indeed nullify the validity of the commandment to honor one’s parents. In this way, the Pharisees are basically accused of a faulty Torah hermeneutic, which unmasks them as blind guides (15.14119). They weigh matters within the Torah in the wrong way by superordinating the commandment to keep vows made before 115 “Also you (καὶ ὑμεῖς)” in v. 3 does not imply that the disciples criticized by the Pharisees are also transgressors of the commandment of God but solely establishes that the Pharisees are also transgressors, while the reference point of the transgression—­in the case of the disciples, the tradition of the elders, and in the case of the Pharisees, by contrast, the commandment of God—­differs. Cf. section 2 in chapter 4 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 306n87). 116 On the Jewish discussion, see, by way of example, Luz 2001, 331 (GV = 1990, 422–­23). 117 Cf. Josephus, Ant. 3.89–­90; LAB 11.4–­14; (44.6). This is not, however, to say that a distinction can be attached to this, as Philo makes for the Decalogue revealed by God himself, on the one hand, and the rest of the Law mediated by Moses (Decal. 18–­19 [on this, cf. Amir 1983, 133–­35]), on the other hand. Rather, if one considers the fact that the passive in the series of antitheses in Matt 5.21–­48 equally encompasses Decalogue commandments and the love commandment from Lev 19.18, then such a distinction is improbable for Matthew. 118 Cf. Berger 1972, 499; Gundry 1994, 304; Davies/Allison 1991, 524. 119 Cf. Matt 23.16, 17, 19, 24, 26.



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God (Num 30.3; Deut 23.22–­24; see also Ps 50.14) over the Decalogue commandment to honor one’s parents, and they have interpreted the question of vows in their halakah in such a way that it leads to open disregard for the honoring of one’s parents. The prominent position of the Decalogue in the Matthean Torah hermeneutic is underscored by the teaching of the crowds in vv. 10–­11 and then of the disciples in vv. 15–­20, which follow the controversy with the opponents in vv. 1–­9. To be sure, as we have noted, Matthew does not have Jesus advocate an abrogation of the purity Torah in principle; at the center of the discussion about purity, however, stands immoral social behavior. The Matthean catalogue in v. 19120 shows here a clear relation to the Decalogue, which can be given sharper contours through the comparison with the Markan Vorlage. First, of the thirteen Markan members, he deletes seven that do not refer directly to the Decalogue.121 Second, Matthew has expanded the list through the addition of ψευδομαρτυρίαι. Finally, he has also adjusted the order to the Decalogue. In short, the Matthean catalogue in 15.19 makes reference to the sixth to ninth commandments. If one adds the quotation of the commandment to honor one’s parents from v. 4, then the exact same commandments are taken up in Matt 15 as Jesus highlights in 19.18. πορνεῖαι reinforces (and generalizes) μοιχεῖαι here;122 βλασφημίαι supplements ψευδομαρτυρίαι.123 The member that is placed—­following Mark 7.21—­at the front, i.e., διαλογισμοὶ πονηροί, serves as a general introduction to the following specification with the aid of the Decalogue and, at the same time, signals as such, with the incorporation of the level of thoughts, the broad understanding of the behavior incriminated by the Decalogue, as this is developed in 5.21–­30 with reference to murder and adultery. 120

Previously, in the instruction of the crowds and the disciples, Matthew—­in distinction from Mark, who speaks in general of what goes into the human being or comes out of the human being (Mark 7.15, 18, 20)—­has concretely juxtaposed τὸ εἰσερχόμενον εἰς τὸ στόμα and τὸ ἐκπορευόμενον ἐκ τοῦ στόματος (vv. 11, 17–­18 [the change into the plural in v. 18 paves the way for the diversifying enumeration in v. 19]). While this could lead one to expect a concentration on sins of the tongue in the catalogue of vices (Berger 1972, 503, postulates such a concentration), the horizon is expanded through τὰ δὲ ἐκπορευόμενα ἐκ τοῦ στόματος ἐκ τῆς καρδίας ἐξέρχεται (v. 18). Here, ἐκ τῆς καρδίας is inspired by Mark 7.(19, )21 but is also prepared for in the context by the quotation of Isa 29.13 (see Mark 7.6; Matt 15.8). 121 Cf., as an analogy, the aforementioned omission of the non-­Decalogue commandment μὴ ἀποστερήσῃς from Mark 10.19 in Matt 19.18–­19. 122 Cf. the juxtaposition in Did. 3.3. 123 In the context it is natural to relate βλασφημίαι here—­as this can also be considered for Did. 3.6 (on this, see Merkel 1981, 1195)—­not to blasphemy of God but to the slander of other human beings.

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3. Conclusion The opening of Jesus’ Torah interpretation in the so-­called antitheses with two Decalogue commandments, the argumentation with the commandment to honor one’s parents in 15.1–­6, the vice catalogue oriented to the Decalogue in 15.19, and, finally, the conversation of Jesus with the rich man in 19.16–­22 all show that, next to the love commandment, the Decalogue commandments assigned to the interpersonal sphere are of paramount importance in the Matthean Torah reception, which operates with the hermeneutical principle of a hierarchy of commandments. Both with regard to the prominent position of the Decalogue and with respect to the contentually expansive understanding of the Decalogue commandments, Matthew could build on early Jewish approaches, which he consistently developed further by explicitly connecting early Jewish tendencies in sexual-­ethical instruction and in relation to the rejection of anger with the interpretation of Decalogue commandments in the antitheses. In other words, as a consequence of their prominent position in Matthew, the Decalogue commandments possess, so to speak, a suction effect on traditions of early Torah instruction: they draw these to themselves. Put the other way around, traditions of the early Jewish Torah instruction function as interpretive material for the understanding of the Decalogue commandments. The result of this process is that the Decalogue does not merely express an ethical minimal consensus in the Matthean understanding. Rather, it places a demand upon the human being in a radical way regarding his behavior and attitude in his central social-­ethical fields of action. Furthermore, it is characteristic of Matthew that under the banner of the love commandment the content of the prohibitions expressed in the Decalogue are converted into positive commandments. At the same time, the interpretive approach that comes to expression in the antitheses also shapes the subsequent references to the Decalogue in 15.19 and 19.18–­20. When Martin Luther, about one and a half millennia later, turned what was for him the fifth commandment, “You shall not kill,” into a positive commandment and thus explained “so that we do no injury or harm to our neighbor in his body but help and support him in all bodily troubles,”124 Matthew probably would not have disagreed with him.

124 Wayne Coppins’ English translation of the German translation in Bekenntnisschriften 1986, 508: “daß wir unserm Nähisten an seinem Leibe keinen Schaden noch Leid tun, sondern ihm helfen und fodern in allen Leibesnöten.”

6

“Blessed Are the Merciful” (Matt 5.7) Compassion and Mercy as Ethical

Attitude in the Gospel of Matthew

While Luke has the commandment of love for enemies (Luke 6.27–­35)—­probably following Q—­flow into an exhortation to the imitatio Dei, which is related to the mercy of God (Luke 6.36), the Matthean Jesus exhorts his disciples to be perfect as their heavenly Father is perfect in Matt 5.48. To infer from this that the First Evangelist was not interested in the theme of mercy would, however, be more than merely a premature conclusion. The motif of the imitation of God in relation to mercy can be heard in Matt 18.33. In 5.48, however, the more comprehensive and contentually nonconcrete concept of perfection is needed, so that 5.48 can function as the climax that summarizes the entire series of antitheses1 and at the same time, together with the motif of the “better righteousness,” as a frame around them.2 Matthew, however, has not simply forgone the motif of mercy in the Sermon on the Mount—­more precisely, in Matt 5—­but rather ‘compensated’ for the change in 5.48 through the fifth beatitude in 5.7, which is distinctive to him: “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” In distinction from Luke/Q 6.36, Matthew does not use οἰκτίρμων but rather ἐλεήμων in the first part of the sentence.3 In this way, he not only effects a consonance with the verb in the grounding 1

The perfect fulfillment of the sixth and seventh commandments of the Decalogue, not to kill and not to commit adultery, are also addressed, for example, in the series of antitheses in 5.21–­48. The demand for mercy from Q 6.36 does not fit here as a concluding admonition that summarizes the whole. 2 On the function of 5.48 not only as the concluding exhortation of the sixth antithesis but as the climax of the whole series, cf., by way of example, Luz 2007, 289 (GV = 2002a, 408). 3 Both adjectives often appear together in the LXX as attributes of God (Exod 34.6; 2 Chr 30.9; Neh 9.17, 31; Pss 85.15LXX; 102.8 LXX; 110.4LXX; 111.4LXX; 144.8LXX; Sir 2.11; Joel 2.13; Jonah 4.2). See further, e.g., T. Jud. 19.3; Jos. Asen. 11.10. 131

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promissory statement (ἐλεηθήσονται), thus highlighting the correspondence between conduct and fate,4 but with this, 5.7a also corresponds at the same time to the usual linguistic usage of the evangelist, who repeatedly uses ἔλεος and ἐλεεῖν but never οἰκτίρμων. If we look at the statistical findings of the use of the words ἔλεος and ἐλεεῖν and their diachronic profile, then this already provides an initial indication of the significance that Matthew assigns to the theme of mercy, even though their relevance in Matthean theology and ethics is only adequately appraised, of course, when, moving beyond mere statistics of words, the contentual weight of individual passages for the overall understanding of the Gospel of Matthew is taken into account. The use of ἔλεος in 23.23 could go back to the Sayings Source,5 but this question cannot ultimately be decided with certainty. By contrast, the two insertions of Hos 6.6—­“I desire mercy (ἔλεος) and not sacrifice”—­in 9.13 and 12.7, with which Matthew emphasizes mercy as a leitmotif of his story of Jesus, are certainly redactional. The corresponding verb ἐλεεῖν is lacking, as far as we can tell, in Q. In Mark, it appears—­with the exception of Mark 5.196—­only in blind Bartimaeus’ double cry for mercy in Mark 10.47, 48. In Matthew, by contrast, Jesus is repeatedly petitioned for mercy (9.27; 15.22; 17.15; 20.30, 31). Moreover, the central statement of the parable in 18.23–­35, which is from Matthew’s special material, is connected to the verb. The slave should have practiced the mercy that he experienced also in relation to his fellow slave (18.33). The word group ἔλεος, ἐλεεῖν, ἐλεήμων7 is also reinforced by the fivefold use of σπλαγχνίζεσθαι, which, with the exception of 18.27, is always used with reference to Jesus (9.36; 14.14; 15.32; 20.34). The material connection between the talk of σπλαγχνίζεσθαι and the use of the word group ἔλεος, ἐλεεῖν, ἐλεήμων comes directly to the fore in their appearance together in 18.23–­35 (18.27, 33) and 20.29–­34 (20.30, 31, 34).8 While the appearances of ἔλεος, ἐλεεῖν, ἐλεήμων and of σπλαγ4 On related statements, see the note at the end of section 1.1 below (GV = Konradt 2016, 419n20). 5 Thus, e.g., Luz 2005c, 121–­22 (GV = 1997, 329). 6 Matthew has omitted this text in the course of his deletion of Mark 5.18–­20. 7 See further the use of ἐλεημοσύνη in Matt 6.2–­4. 8 The connection of the words also appears elsewhere. In the early Jewish attestations, it is conspicuous that when ἐλεεῖν and σπλαγχνίζεσθαι are directly placed together, σπλαγχνίζεσθαι either occurs as a participle that qualifies the main verb ἐλεεῖν to which it is coordinated (see T. Job. 26.5: ὁ κύριος σπλαγχνισθεὶς ἐλεήσῃ ἡμᾶς; T. Zeb. 7.2: . . . ἀδιακρίτως πάντας σπλαγχνιζόμενοι ἐλεᾶτε; T. Zeb. 8.1: . . . ἵνα καὶ ὁ κύριος εἰς ὑμᾶς σπλαγχνισθεὶς ἐλεήσῃ ὑμᾶς) or the σπλαγχνίζεσθαι is at least placed prior to the ἐλεεῖν (Apoc. Mos. 27.2: ὅπως παρακαλέσω τὸν θεόν, καὶ σπλαγχνισθῇ καὶ ἐλεήσῃ με). Thus, ἐλεεῖν designates the main action, while σπλαγχνίζεσθαι tends to designate the



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χνίζεσθαι provide a methodologically controlled and materially rich foundation for the question of the relevance and thematic development of mercy in the Gospel of Matthew, it must nevertheless be added that the thematically relevant texts are not yet exhaustively discerned by the appearance of these lexemes. For it is also possible to speak of merciful behavior in concrete form in places where none of these lexemes appear. This is clearly the case for Matthew’s portrayal of the last judgment in 25.31–­46, which must therefore be included in what follows. If mercy, understood very generally, is the turning to human beings in need with the aim of positively changing their situation of plight, so that it begins when one allows oneself to be touched and moved by the plight of the other, then the concrete form that merciful action takes depends on the nature of the need or plight.9 In what follows, I will discuss the difficult situations in relation to which Matthew introduces the theme of mercy. The preceding overview has already indicated that mercy appears not only as an ethical demand, but there is also talk of the mercy of God and especially of the compassionate mercy of Jesus. In what follows, I will therefore proceed in two main steps. First, I will discuss the theological and christological embedding of the Matthean ethos of mercy, since this ethos cannot be adequately understood without this. On this basis, the mercy required of human beings will then be placed at the center in a second step. Due to the connection between the aspects in the Matthean texts themselves, a certain amount of overlap is unavoidable. When God’s mercy is thematized (5.7; 18.23–­35), this is directly connected to the call for human beings to show mercy toward one another. ‘affect’ that triggers the action. In the New Testament, reference can be made, alongside the Matthean attestations, to the parable of the merciful Samaritan in Luke 10.29–­37. In v. 33 it says that the Samaritan had compassion (ἐσπλαγχνίσθη) when he saw the man who had fallen among the robbers; his action that follows this is then designated in v. 37 as ποιεῖν τὸ ἔλεος. 9 The Testament of Zebulun, whose main theme is mercy, provides an instructive panorama of compassionate, merciful behavior. Zebulun has mercy with Joseph when the brothers want to kill him (T. Zeb. 2; 4.2; 5.4). Moreover, he mercifully supports human beings in social situations of plight (6.1–­7.4). Not only does he give those in need—­specifically foreigners, the sick, and the aged (6.5)—­some of the fruit of his work as a fisherman (6.4–­8), but he also clothes the person in difficulty in the winter (7.1). Beyond this, 7.3–­4 deals with the question of how one is to be merciful in a situation in which one is temporarily without means: “If at any time you do not have anything to give to the one who is in need, be compassionate and merciful in your inner self. When my hand could not find the means for contributing to a needy person, I walked with him for seven stades, weeping; my inner being was in torment with sympathy for him” (trans. H. C. Kee, OTP 1:806–­7). Moreover, in T. Zeb., Joseph is a model of mercy toward those who had previously wronged him (8.4). By contrast, the one who pays back evil has no σπλάγχνα ἐλέους (8.6).

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1. The Theological and Christological Foundation of the Ethos of Mercy in the Gospel of Matthew 1.1 The Circle of Mercy: The Mercy of God and Mercy among Human Beings The main text in which Matthew expresses the connection between divine and human mercy is the parable of the unmerciful servant in Matt 18.23–­35. The parable is part of Jesus’ answer to the question raised by Peter in v. 21: “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him?”10 Peter is by no means to be charged with posing a question that is characterized by a small-­minded attitude. Jesus has previously exhorted his hearers not to despise the little ones but to go after those who go astray and correct the sinners. This implies that they are to be forgiven insofar as they accept correction (cf. v. 18b).11 Peter in no way calls into question the preceding instruction but rather even assumes from the outset that the forgiveness of sins is not to be granted only once. “Up to seven times” must be appraised as an option that is indeed broadminded.12 Jesus’ position, however, goes beyond this: “up to seventy-­seven times” means de facto that there is no limit to forgiveness. The following parable shows why there cannot be a limit. The option of a refused forgiveness is narratively staged therein through the behavior of the servant toward his fellow servant (vv. 28–­30). In the narrative, his behavior, however, appears as absolutely absurd, for his creditor, the king, had previously forgiven him a sum of money that was six hundred thousand times greater than the sum owed to him by his fellow servant.13 Put differently, his debt was so astronomically high that even the debt bondage put forward by the king in v. 25 could have produced only a small part of the total debt, so that there was never a prospect of a complete repayment.14 To this extent, the announcement that he wants to pay back everything, with which the debtor supports his plea for more time (v. 26), can be read from the outset as nothing but a delusional excuse. The servant could never have paid back his debt. 10

Viewed diachronically, Matthew continues the Q-passage in vv. 21–­22 (par. Luke 17.4), which was already taken up in v. 15 (par. Luke 17.3). In doing so, Matthew has dialogically rearranged the didactic monologue of Jesus in Q 17.3–­4 by making Peter ask the question of how often the other should be forgiven. 11 For the preceding context of Matt 18.21–­35, see section 2.1.1 below. 12 Cf. Luz 2001, 465 (GV = 1997, 62): “The sevenfold forgiveness that Peter suggests is by no means trivial (nichts Geringes). Seven is the traditional number of perfection.” 13 Cf. Luz 2001, 473 (GV = 1997, 71). 14 It can be speculated that the original parable may have operated at this point with a much smaller (though still high) debt (perhaps 10,000 denarii), which could have (largely) been produced through the measures introduced in v. 25, and Matthew raised the contribution in the course of his equation of the first creditor with God (cf. de Boer 1988).



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The king then grants his debtor much more than he had asked for. He simply forgives him the entire sum. This turn in the story is anchored in the fact that the king had felt compassion toward the servant who beseeched him (σπλαγχνισθείς, v. 27). Verse 33 takes up this aspect but speaks—­varying the language of v. 27—­of the ἐλεεῖν of the king. While the meanings overlap, σπλαγχνίζεσθαι directs the eye more strongly to the inner affectedness by the servant’s plight, which prompts the following action, and ἐλεεῖν, conversely, to the action that arises from this, i.e., here concretely to the remission of the debt. Mercy is understood radically here. The mere granting of the petition for more time would not have changed the fundamental situation and would not have provided an attainable way out from it. Correspondingly, for Matthew this action probably would not be classified as a compassionate mercy. The merciful action aims at the actual removal of the situation of plight. It is evident that the aspect that the debt cannot be paid back by the debtor is constructed with a view to the target domain that is being addressed in the parable. The situation of the human being before God is presented with the debtor. He cannot escape his debt-­laden situation with his own powers. In other words, the human being is dependent on the mercy of God. The fact that Matthew has inserted Peter as the person who asks the question in v. 21 gives this insight, so to speak, a face in light of the overall narrative. A little later, Peter will deny Jesus (26.69–­75), which, according to 10.33, would need to draw severe consequences after it. However, the fact that Jesus, in 28.10, counts him, entirely as a matter of course, among “his brothers” who will see him in Galilee (28.16–­20) implies that his heavy debt/guilt is forgiven. In this way, he paradigmatically symbolizes the fundamental experience that a salvific future is open to human beings solely on the basis of the mercy of God that benefits them. The fifth petition of the Lord’s Prayer (6.12) underlines the fact that Jesus’ disciples, too, are enduringly dependent on the forgiveness of sins. As in the parable of the unmerciful servant in 18.23–­35, one’s own readiness to forgive is connected to the reception of the forgiveness of sins by God (see also 6.14–­15). While the parable communicates the expectation that the remission of debt granted by the king calls forth from itself a corresponding action toward the fellow servant, God’s forgiveness is, conversely, made dependent on how a person has behaved in relation to his fellow human being in 6.12, 14–­15. A logical contradiction between the texts cannot, however, be derived from this. In 18.23–­35 the king takes back the remission of debt that he had given after the servant showed himself to be unmerciful, and, conversely, 6.12, 14–­15 does not exclude the aspect of the prevenient grace of God presented in 18.23–­27. Thus, when the texts are

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viewed together, there emerges a multidimensional connection between divine forgiveness and forgiving behavior between human beings. The opening reference to the fact that in the accusatory question of the king in v. 33 (“Should you not have had mercy on your fellow servant as I had mercy upon you”) the imitatio Dei stands theologically in the background15 can now be made more precise on the basis of the preceding discussion. For the mimesis motif is sharpened here insofar as the concern is not simply in general with being merciful toward our fellow human beings, as God is merciful toward human beings (cf. Luke 6.36),16 but with letting the mercy that we ourselves have received from God also flow analogously to others. Moreover, in the parable, the measure of mercy that the servant has received far surpasses the measure of mercy that he was asked for. In relation to the question of Peter in 18.21, it follows from the parable in vv. 23–­35 that the question of how often a fellow human being is to be forgiven must be viewed from the perspective of one’s own situation coram Deo. It then follows from this that the refusal of forgiveness between humans would always be absurd, just as the behavior of the servant in relation to his fellow servant in the parable appears as a grotesque hardness of heart. The relation between the sums of debt in the two scenes in vv. 23–­27, 28–­30 insinuates that what a person would collect in debt from another person is (normally) an almost negligible quantity in comparison to what he has himself amassed in debt in relation to God. According to Matthew, out of the knowledge of one’s own neediness coram Deo, there grows organically the principle of orienting one’s behavior toward the other not by one’s own rights but by the other’s neediness. Thus, it fundamentally depends on not repressing one’s own dependency on God’s mercy but rather being aware of this. At the same time, the magnitude of the ethical challenge formulated here cannot be missed. Peter focuses the theme, in comparison to v. 15, on the case of a personally suffered wrong at the hands of another.17 Thus, in the question posed by Peter the concern is more specifically with mercifully approaching the other despite having personally suffered wrong from him and with taking one’s orientation from his neediness without regard for one’s own ‘sensitivities,’ which were caused by the wrongdoing of the other. As soon as the perspective narrows 15

See Luz 2001, 474 (GV = 1997, 73). On the motif of the imitatio Dei in relation to mercy, see, e.g., Let. Aris. 208; b. Shabb. 133b; y. Ber. 5.9c; Mek. Exod. on 15.2; Sifre Deut. § 49 on 11.22; Tg. Ps.-­Jonathan on Lev 22.28. On the pre-­rabbinic literature, cf. Witte 2014, 397–­98. 17 In my view, the textual variant without εἰς σέ has the greater claim to be original. For justification, see Konradt 2016, 394–­95, with n51. Thus, Matthew deals first with the general case that a community member sins (not: “if someone sins against you”). Verse 21 then focuses the theme on the case of the personally suffered wrong. 16



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down on the interpersonal relationship that is in question, the question of how many times one can be expected to repeatedly forgive someone inevitably arises, for it appears almost ‘natural’ for the readiness to forgive the same person again and again to decrease more and more with every case. Through the incorporation of our own situation vis-­à-­vis God, the constellation, however, changes—­just as in the parable the behavior of the servant in relation to his fellow servant does not appear completely absurd in itself but only in the light of the preceding scene. In another way, the dependence of the human being on God’s mercy is also presupposed in the beatitude in Matt 5.7. The justifying clauses in the series of macarisms consistently look to eschatological salvation. The Matthean tendency to ethicize the series of macarisms in the initial clause18 fits seamlessly into the significance that the evangelist generally assigns to human action for the outcome of the final judgment.19 When, however, 5.7 says that the merciful will receive mercy (in the judgment) and the emphasis on the correspondence between conduct and fate in v. 7 is more than a mere play with words, then this implies that also ‘the righteous’ can stand before God only through the fact that God looks mercifully upon those who seek his kingdom and his righteousness (6.33).20 18 On the ethicizing tendency in Matt 5.3–­10, see, by way of example, Luz 2007, 190–­99 (GV = 2002a, 276–­90). 19 See, e.g., 7.21–­27 or 16.27. 20 Cf. Betz 1995, 134, who suggests that here the insight is expressed that “no matter how many deeds of mercy they may have done those who appear before God’s throne will need mercy.” Here, a comparison with the Epistle of James—which, like the Gospel of Matthew, is (inappropriately) accused of works righteousness—is instructive. For James, like Matthew, asserts the significance of action for one’s eschatological fate (Jas 1.22–­25; 2.12, 14–­26; cf. Matt 7.13–­27; 16.27; 25.31–­46 and elsewhere), but James, too, speaks in this context of the mercy of God. Jas 2.13 offers a negative counterpart to Matt 5.7. If human beings behave without mercy, they will themselves not be able to hope in mercy in the judgment. This, however, presupposes the view that the judge is merciful when human beings have deeds of mercy to show. The concluding sentence in Jas 2.13 (κατακαυχᾶται ἔλεος κρίσεως) should probably be understood in this sense. Jas 5.11 must then also be incorporated: the good end that God prepared for Job is not monoperspectivally related to Job’s steadfastness, but James points to the fact that “the Lord is full of compassion and is merciful (πολύσπλαγχνός ἐστιν ὁ κύριος καὶ οἰκτίρμων)” (on this, cf. Konradt 1998, 297). For the Old Testament, reference can be made, by way of example, to Ps 129LXX: the talk of God’s ἔλεος in v. 7 is connected here with the knowledge that no one could stand before God if God did not overlook the lawlessness of human beings (v. 3). More generally, the fact that the merciful receive mercy is indeed a common statement in the biblical sphere of tradition. See, e.g., Prov 17.5LXX (ὁ δὲ ἐπισπλαγχνιζόμενος ἐλεηθήσεται); T. Zeb. 5.3; 8.1–­3 (8.1: . . . ἔχετε εὐσπλαγχνίαν κατὰ παντὸς ἀνθρώπου ἐν ἐλέει, ἵνα καὶ ὁ κύριος εἰς ὑμᾶς σπλαγχνισθεὶς ἐλεήσῃ ὑμᾶς); b. Shabb. 151b; Sifre Deut. § 96 on 13.18. See further 1 Clem. 13.2; Pol. Phil. 2.3. It appears in a negative expression (God does not show mercy to human beings who do not show mercy) in, for example, T. Ab. B 10.4–­5; Gen. Rab. on 8.7.

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If Matt 5.7 and 18.23–­35 are drawn together, then the lives of the followers of Jesus appear to be encompassed by God’s mercy. According to 18.23–­35, the experience of God’s mercy should produce human merciful behavior out of itself, and in 5.7 God’s mercy applies specifically to those persons who have practiced mercy. Thus, the disciples come from God’s mercy, who has forgiven them their debts/sins and continues to do so (6.12), and they go toward God’s mercy at the final judgment. In short, one can speak here of a circle of mercy, which begins with God and flows to God again, but which is interrupted and breaks off if human beings do not let themselves be fundamentally determined by the experience of the mercy that they have been given and are being given in their own action.21 The latter is presented in a drastic form in the final scene of the parable in vv. 31–­34. While the king reacts with mercy to the petition of the slave (σπλαγχνισθείς), he now reacts with anger (ὀργισθείς).22 With his own mercilessness, the servant forfeits the remission of debt that was previously awarded to him. His master measures him “with the measure . . . 21

The notion of a circle (Kreislauf) of mercy must be strictly distinguished from the concept of a reciprocal (reziproken) mercy with which Maschmeier 2021, 22–­159, has attempted to grasp the understanding of mercy in Matt 18.23–­35. In his view, the God-­human relationship is meant to be determined by mutual (wechselseitige) demonstrations of mercy. The problem in the parable is said to be “refused mutuality (Gegenseitigkeit) on the level of mercy” (86). It is uncontroversial that the merciful action of God is connected to the expectation that the human being lets himself or herself be determined by this experience in his or her interhuman action and that this is an expression of his or her relation to God. In this respect, one can say that human beings answer or respond to God’s mercy through their behavior toward their fellow human beings, and it is consistent that God intervenes into the relationship if this reaction does not occur. This, however, does not justify inscribing the aspect of reciprocity into the concept of mercy itself, and Matt 18.23–­35 is in that case also precisely not a witness to such an understanding. As I have shown, one can speak in the sense of the imitatio Dei of a passing on of the ἔλεος of God—­Maschmeier also takes up this manner of speaking himself (p. 133 and elsewhere). It would, however, introduce an ideational fuzziness if this aspect were to be captured by the talk of reciprocal mercy. For the concern here is precisely not with a mutuality (Wechselseitigkeit) in a two-­membered constellation of characters. After all, the king does not criticize the servant in Matt 18.33 for not returning the experienced mercy in relation to him but for not having mercy on his fellow slave. Thus, the concern is not with the relation A ←→ B but with the constellation A → B → C. This does not affect the fact that B → C has to do, of course, with how B lives out the relation to A, and, correspondingly, the relation A ←→ B is affected by the behavior of B in relation to C. This, however, does not make mercy itself a reciprocal action. Rather, it is necessary to distinguish carefully between reciprocal and mimetic action. This distinction also cannot be blurred through the figure of thought that the interhumanly granted chesed “[is to be] practiced in such a way as if it applied to God himself” (133). Matthew knows this figure of thought. He presents it with a christological orientation in Matt 25.40, 45 with a view to the behavior in relation to persons who are in need socially to highlight their claim to care (see section 2.1.2). But it does not occur in Matt 18; and it also does not fit the theme of the forgiveness of sins that is addressed here. 22 Cf. Maschmeier 2021, 31.



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with which he himself has measured (cf. 7.1b)”23 and hands him over “to the torturers until he should pay back all that he owed” (18.34)—­as the servant had previously thrown his fellow servant into prison “until he should pay back what he owed” (v. 30). In terms of content, the mercy of God in 5.7 and in 18.23–­35 is related to the theme of the forgiveness of sins.24 The neediness of human beings in their relationship to God consists in the fact that as sinners they are dependent on God’s mercy. Other forms of neediness and mercy are not explicitly thematized in the framework of the human-­God relationship in the Gospel of Matthew. 1.2 The Compassion and Mercy of Jesus Most of the attestations of the lexemes mentioned at the outset are directly or indirectly connected with the portrayal of the activity of Jesus. The connection to behavior toward the sinner, which was noted with regard to the God-­human relationship, is also of great significance here, but it does not present—­as will become clear in what follows—­the exclusive field of application. 1.2.1 Jesus’ Merciful Turning to Sinners in Matt 9.9–­13

Saving people from their sins is already established by Matthew as the “center of Jesus’ mission”25 in 1.21 through the interpretation of the name “Jesus.” While the task of Jesus introduced in 1.21 finds its final realization through his—­soteriologically interpreted—­death (26.28), it also shapes his earthly activity. Jesus has authority to forgive human beings their sins (9.2–­8), and he does not avoid fellowship with sinners, since he came to call sinners (9.9–­13). It has rightly been noted that 9.9–­13 continues the theme of 9.2–­8 in a varying way. In the calling of the tax collector Matthew (v. 9), the forgiveness of his sins is implied,26 and the subsequent fellowship of Jesus with sinners also illustrates the fact that Jesus does not keep human beings in their sinful past but with him they can receive the forgiveness of their sins.27 In comparison to the Markan version, the most important accent that Matthew has set in 9.10–­13 is the insertion of the quotation from 23

Luz 1997, 72 (cf. Luz 2001, 474). Cf., e.g., Num 14.19; Isa 55.7; Jonah 4.2; Ps 50.3LXX; Neh 9.17; Wis 11.23; Sir 5.6; Bar 3.2; T. Iss. 6.3–­4; T. Zeb. 9.7; Jos. Asen. 11.10; 12.15. 25 Luz 2005c, 381 (GV = 2002b, 116). 26 Cf. Landmesser 2001, 76. 27 According to Gielen 1998, 95, the table fellowship granted by Jesus even possesses “a similarly sin-­forgiving character . . . as the word that he spoke to the paralytic in 9.2c.” Cf. also Landmesser 2001, 91–­92; Seeanner 2009, 64. 24

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Hos 6.6 in Jesus’ answer to the Pharisees’ accusatory question of why he eats with tax collectors and sinners. Jesus’ reply in Matthew thus proceeds in three steps. In the first step, Jesus, using the picture of the sick and the physician, opposes the mentality of exclusion of the (supposedly) righteous—­expressed in the question of the Pharisees—­which evaluates the tax collectors solely according to their previously unrighteous action with an interpretation according to which the tax collectors and sinners are to be viewed as human beings who need help, just as a sick person needs a physician. This interpretation is an at least one-­sided if not audacious interpretation of the situation. The responsibility of the tax collectors for the wrongdoing committed by them recedes behind the fact that they, rightly viewed, are in a situation of plight. Jesus relies on the transforming, contagious power of the fellowship bestowed by him and hopes that they will let themselves be healed by the physician, i.e., without the metaphorical language, that they will seize the possibility of changing their lives. In the second step, which is unique to Matthew, Jesus then connects his behavior with the prophetic saying from Hos 6.6. Here, attention should be given to the fact that the metaphor of sickness also occurs in the preceding context of Hos 6.6, namely, in the portrayal of the consequences of God’s judgment (5.12–­13). Hos 6.1–­3 portrays the superficial repentance of the people. This is accompanied by the expectation that they will be healed by God (v. 2), but this proves to be an error. Already in v. 4, there is talk here of the ἔλεος (MT: ‫)ח ֶסד‬ ֶ of Ephraim and Judah, which is transitory and perishable “like a cloud in the morning and like the dew of the early morning that goes away.” In particular, it is not done with the offering of sacrifices. Rather, God demands a true and enduring demonstration of ‫ח ֶסד‬/ ֶ ἔλεος. “For I desire ἔλεος (MT: ‫)ח ֶסד‬ ֶ and not28 sacrifice, knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.” Matthew’s use of the quotation takes up a shift of meaning in the LXX in comparison to the Masoretic text. For in Hebrew ‫“ ֶח ֶסד‬chiefly denotes the faithful, covenantal relationship to Yahweh,”29 so that it can be translated with “covenantal loyalty.”30 The Greek translation with ἔλεος enables Matthew to focus the required behavior on the interhuman sphere.31 A shift in sense, however, arises also through the 28 Matthew’s καὶ οὐ in the quotation of Hos 6.6 corresponds to LXX A (= MT), whereas LXX B, in analogy to the second half of the verse, has ἔλεος θέλω ἢ οὐ θυσίαν. 29 Wolff 1974, 120 (GV = 1965, 153). 30 Wolff 1965, 132: “Bundessinn” (cf. Wolff 1974, 105: “loyalty”). 31 Cf. also Nolland 2005, 387: “In Hosea the Hebrew term is likely to have meant wholehearted covenant loyalty to God, but the move to Greek here shifts the emphasis clearly to human interaction. . . . Covenant loyalty to God is not at all what springs to mind in the Matthean context.” Against this, Landmesser 2001, 121–­29, defines the meaning of ἔλεος in Matt 9.13 from the context of Hos 6.6MT and postulates that ἔλεος in Matt 9.13 means turning to God in a comprehensive sense. See also Hill 1978, 110 (“Jesus is made to affirm that in man’s relationship to God, what is desired is not sacrifice . . . but the compassionate attitude



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constellation of characters, for Jesus is, first, the physician who is able to heal and thus takes over the role that belongs to God in Hos 5.12–­6.3, and yet, second, he is also—­as the ideal Israelite, as the Son of God called out of Egypt (2.15) who has proved himself in the temptations in the wilderness (4.1–­11)32—­the one who practices the divinely required mercy, which is necessary for the renewal of the languishing, afflicted people (9.36). The Pharisees, by contrast, disqualify themselves as authorities of the people with their refusal of mercy in relation to sinners. With this they simultaneously fall short of God’s will and demonstrate that they—­in contrast to their self-­evaluation—­by no means belong to the righteous. Rather, they exclude themselves from the renewal of the people that is inaugurated with Jesus’ messianic activity. In the third step, Jesus applies the preceding material directly to his task. After 5.17, 9.13b is the second saying in which Jesus unpacks the meaning of his coming. For Matthew the two statements belong most intimately together materially. The fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets includes a life practice that is oriented, in the sense of Hos 6.6, to the centrality of the demand for mercy. Thus, the turning to sinners is for Matthew not criticism of the Torah but rather precisely the fulfillment of the will of God that is expressed in the Torah and the Prophets. Here, it must also be taken into account that Hos 6.6 does not merely formulate the claim that God places on human beings and that is realized by Jesus in an ideal way. Instead, Matthew views Jesus, as the messiah, as the medium of the action of God, i.e., for him Jesus’ life practice is a manifestation of God’s own mercy.33 The fact that Jesus has come to call sinners is synonymous with the fact that he was sent by God to do this (cf. 15.24). To learn what the prophetic saying is about therefore means to recognize that Jesus, as the medium of the merciful God with his turning to sinners, realizes and embodies the mercy with which God is pleased. Thus, Jesus’ behavior is not merely portrayed and thus justified as being in agreement with the prophetic saying,34 but in Jesus’ turning to sinners it becomes fully clear and merciful action which gives concrete expression to one’s faithful adherence to and love for God”); as well as Davies/Allison 1991, 105; and most recently and in detail Maschmeier 2021, esp. 160–­247, according to whom Matthew “relates ἔλεος to the human relationship to God and understands the mercy granted between human beings as a concretion of the human demonstration of ‫ ֶח ֶסד‬in relation to God” (186). Here, however, it is necessary to make a careful distinction: mercy is a behavior in relation to fellow human beings but as such is at the same time an expression of the relationship to God. 32 On the Israel typology in the presentation of Jesus, cf. Davies/Allison 1988, 263–­64, 352–­74; and Kennedy 2008. 33 Cf. the fitting statement of Nolland 2005, 387: “It is the compassion of God which comes to expression in Jesus’ ‘medical’ work.” 34 This is how it is usually interpreted. See, e.g., Ottenheijm 2011, 16: “The citation offers a scriptural legitimation for [Jesus’] behaviour.”

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for the first time what that saying means: mercy means not fixing sinners to their previous deeds but welcoming them in order to lead them into a new life. Only when one pays attention to this context of meaning does the Matthean insertion of the particle γάρ in v. 13 become sufficiently comprehensible, with which Matthew has attached v. 13b to the preceding material. In the presented understanding, 9.13 corresponds at the same time to the talk of the fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets in 5.17. For in 5.17 the concern is also not merely with showing that Jesus himself has acted in a way that conforms to the Torah. Rather, for Matthew this verse also implies that Jesus first brought the will of God expressed in the Torah and the Prophets to light in a fully valid way through his teaching and lived it out through his life practice.35 1.2.2 Jesus’ Mercy toward the Hungry and the Sick

While the application of Hos 6.6 in Matt 9.9–­13 reinforces the talk of mercy in relation to the turning to sinners, which was already observed in relation to the God–human being relationship, the second reception of the prophetic saying in 12.7 adds a different thematic aspect. Jesus appears again in a controversy with Pharisees, but this time the concern is with the fact that Jesus defends the behavior of his disciples who, on account of their hunger, picked heads of grain as they passed through the grainfields (v. 1) and thus transgressed the prohibition against working on the Sabbath. In addition to the reference to the analogous case with David (vv. 3–­4; cf. 1 Sam 21.1–­7), which also occurs in Mark 2.25–­26, Matthew also inserts a halakic argument of Jesus in vv. 5–­7. It operates with the principle of a hierarchy of commandments, which occupies a central position in Matthew’s Torah hermeneutic.36 In the case of a priest who is on duty, the Sabbath commandment is overridden by the commandment to offer sacrifice also on the Sabbath (Num 28.9–­10). According to the prophetic saying of Hos 6.6, the importance of mercy, however, far exceeds that of sacrifice. Thus, if sacrifice in the temple already overrides the Sabbath, then a transgression of the Sabbath is all the more legitimate if the demand to observe the Sabbath commandments strictly would result in mercilessness toward human beings. Since the hungering disciples are in a situation of need, they are not to be prevented from plucking the heads of grain if mercy, in 35 For the interpretation of Matt 5.17, cf. section 1.1 in chapter 4 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 290–­92). On the connection between 9.13 and 5.17, see also Seeaner 2009, 126–­27. 36 On this, see section 1.1 and section 2 in chapter 4 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 292–­94, 305–­6, 309).



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the sense of Hos 6.6, functions as the guiding criterion.37 Correspondingly, Jesus, who is the “Lord over the Sabbath” (Matt 12.28), allows them to continue. The fact that Jesus’ mercy applies not only to the sinner but also to human beings in their physical situations of need, as becomes clear through the reference of the repeated recourse to Hos 6.6 to the hunger of the disciples, is highlighted in yet another respect through the appearance of the petitions for mercy made to Jesus, which Matthew has significantly expanded and which all appear in the context of the healing of the sick. In the Markan Vorlage, Matthew found the cry for mercy, as mentioned at the outset, only in Mark 10.47, 48. He not only took over these attestations (Matt 20.30, 31) but also took up the cry for mercy in the free doublet that he created to the healing of the blind men at Jericho (20.29–­34) in 9.27–­31 (9.27). In both texts the petition for mercy is connected to the invocation of Jesus as Son of David. Moreover, Matthew has inserted this thematic connection into his version of the encounter between Jesus and the Canaanite woman who entreats him on behalf of her sick daughter (15.22). The petition for mercy appears without a connection to the invocation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah only in 17.15.38 Attention must be given to the fact that Matthew has developed the Davidic messiahship of Jesus into a leitmotif of his presentation of the earthly activity of Jesus. Jesus is the Davidic-­messianic shepherd of Israel (2.6; 15.24) with whose sending to Israel God is fulfilling the promises given to his people.39 By closely connecting—­under the inspiration of Mark 10.47, 48—­the healing action of the Davidic messiah with the motif of mercy, mercy itself comes to the fore as a main motif in the activity of Jesus. If one additionally notes intertextually that the petitionary cry ἐλέησον takes up the prayer language of the Psalms, in which prayers are directed to God,40 then Jesus 37

In connection with 11.28–­30, Jesus’ understanding of the Sabbath (12.3–­8), which determines the practice of his disciples (v. 1), illustrates that his yoke is gentle. Cf. Mayer-­Haas 2003, 430, 438; and chapter 7 in the present volume (GV = Konradt 2018b). 38 The absence of the address of Jesus as “Son of David” in 17.15 can be made comprehensible as an intentional variation of the evangelist. The motif of Jesus’ Davidic sonship is connected with his earthly activity in the Gospel of Matthew. In the wake of the transfiguration scene in 17.1–­13, in which the three disciples are granted a proleptic vision of the resurrection glory, 17.14–­20 deals, by contrast, with the situation of the disciples in the face of the earthly absence of Jesus. While the disciples should have been able to heal the “moon-­ struck” young man—since, according to 9.36–­10.8, they were appointed and empowered to continue his merciful turning to the sick—they fail because of their little faith (17.20). 39 On this, see, in detail, Konradt 2014b, 18–­49 (GV = 2007, 18–­52). On the significance of the invocation of Jesus as “Son of David” by the Canaanite woman in 15.22 in particular, see Konradt 2014b, 64, 274, 375 (GV = 2007, 68, 294, 399–­400). On the messianic Son of David as healer in the Gospel of Matthew, see further Novakovic 2003. 40 See Pss 6.3; 9.14; 24.16LXX; 25.11LXX; 26.7LXX; 29.11LXX; 30.10LXX; 40.5, 11LXX; LXX 50.3 ; and elsewhere.

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appears here, insofar as the petitionary cry is addressed to him as Son of David and Lord,41 as a medium of the mercy of God. With the coming of Jesus God shows mercy to his people. Alongside the forgiveness of sins, the healings are a fundamental expression of this merciful turning of God to his people. The relevance of this aspect is underlined by the fact that for Matthew Jesus’ healing action is of central significance in general for presenting the salvation that human beings encounter through Jesus’ activity. In addition to the individual healing stories, Matthew repeatedly refers to Jesus’ comprehensive healing activity in summaries (4.23–­24; 12.15; 14.14 and elsewhere).42 The mercy motif can also be heard in these texts. When human beings bring their sick to Jesus and he heals them all,43 this is an expression of his mercy.44 Further, against this background, we must return again to the quotation of Hos 6.6 in Matt 12.7. Through the reconfiguration of the transition in v. 9, Matthew has connected the two Sabbath episodes in 12.1–­8, 9–­14 into an event continuum. In the second episode as well, the concern in the Matthean version is with the question of what one is permitted to do on the Sabbath (v. 10; cf. v. 2). The reply of the Matthean Jesus culminates in the formulation of a programmatic principle: “It is permitted to do good on the Sabbath” (v. 12). Viewed in the context of 12.1–­8, this 41

See Matt 15.22; 17.15; 20.30, 31. In 4.23 and 9.35 Jesus’ activity is summarily described through teaching, proclamation of the gospel of the kingdom, and healing of all sicknesses and infirmities. Before Matthew unpacks the teaching of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, he also first reinforces again the reference to Jesus’ healing activity in 4.24. Further summaries are focused wholly on healing (8.16; 12.15; 14.14, 35–­36; 15.30; 19.2; 21.14; by contrast, Matthew refers to Jesus’ teaching and proclamation in 11.1); twice a Markan reference to Jesus’ teaching is replaced by a note about his healing activity among the people (Matt 14.14 par. 6.34; Matt 19.2 par. Mark 10.1); on the redactional emphasis on the healings as an expression of Jesus’ turning to the crowds, cf. Cousland 2002. Cf. now also Konradt 2020c. 43 Matthew emphatically speaks multiple times of the fact that Jesus heals all (see Matt 8.16: . . . καὶ πάντας τοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας ἐθεράπευσεν [diff. Mark 1.34: καὶ ἐθεράπευσεν πολλοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας ποικίλαις νόσοις]; Matt 12.15: καὶ ἐθεράπευσεν αὐτοὺς πάντας [diff. Mark 3.10: πολλοὺς γὰρ ἐθεράπευσεν]; cf. also θεραπεύων πᾶσαν νόσον καὶ πᾶσαν μαλακίαν in 4.23; 9.35). 44 Note that the first appearance of the petition for mercy (9.27) occurs only after Jesus himself has presented his activity through the citation of Hos 6.6 as a manifestation of the mercy required by God. It cannot be determined with certainty whether this has been done with intention compositionally. One can, in any case, point to the fact that Matthew has not taken over attestations in the Markan text whose Matthean parallels occur prior to Matt 9.9–­13. This applies, first, to the Markan use of σπλαγχνίζεσθαι in the narrative of the healing of a leper (Mark 1.41), which has a parallel in Matt 8.1–­4 (the Markan σπλαγχνισθείς is also lacking, by the way, in the Lukan parallel in Luke 5.13), and, second, to the use of ἐλεεῖν in Mark 5.19 in the narrative of the healing of the possessed Gerasene; here, however, the Matthean omission can also be explained by the fact that Matthew has not taken over the entire text of Mark 5.18–­20 in his parallel version in Matt 8.28–­34. 42



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takes up and continues the emphasis on mercy as a leading principle. But in 12.9–­14 the good is precisely the fact that Jesus has mercy on a man with a “withered” hand and heals him.45 1.2.3 The σπλαγχνίζεσθαι of Jesus

If one also incorporates the attestations of σπλαγχνίζεσθαι that are related to Jesus, then the presented findings receive further reinforcement. In 9.36 Matthew anchors the sending of the disciples to the “lost sheep of the house of Israel” (10.6) in Jesus’ compassion for the crowds, “for they were afflicted and languishing as sheep without a shepherd” (9.36). Matthew has brought forward here, with Mark 6.34, a verse from the Markan narrative of the feeding of the five thousand, but he also introduces the motif of Jesus’ σπλαγχνίζεσθαι again in the parallel to Mark 6.34 in 14.14, which makes clear, by way of example, the significance of the motif for the First Evangelist. Viewed in context, the seeing of the crowds that calls forth Jesus’ compassion according to 9.36 must be understood in terms of the impressions that Jesus has previously made. Through his activity in all the cities and villages (9.35), he saw the whole scope of the plight of the people, which is emphasized, even beyond the motif of the lack of a shepherd taken over from Mark 6.34,46 through the insertion of the two participles ἐσκυλμένοι and ἐρριμμένοι. The greatness of the task forms the horizon for the sending out of the disciples who have previously gotten to know the activity of Jesus in its different facets and who are now meant to continue this.47 Like Jesus, they should proclaim the nearness of the kingdom of heaven (10.7), and, like Jesus, they should heal (10.8), for which purpose Jesus has previously given to them his authority over the “unclean spirits” (10.1). As Jesus is the medium of the mercy of God toward his people, so the disciples are now placed in the service of the merciful turning to the people, and healings again play a prominent role here. At the same time, the plight of the people that evokes Jesus’ compassion also contains an eminent soteriological aspect, which also comes to the fore in the talk of the “lost sheep” (10.6; 15.24), as 18.14 exemplarily illustrates. One must go after a sheep that has gone astray so that it does not get lost again. Thus, the talk of Jesus’ σπλαγχνίζεσθαι in 9.36 must also be placed in the thematic context that is present in 9.13. The concern is with turning to sinners and saving the “lost.” 45

Cf. Lybæk 1997, 493–­94; Hinkle 1998, 357. On this motif, cf. Num 27.17; 1 Kgs 22.17/2 Chr 18.16; Isa 13.14; Ezek 34.5, 8; Zech 10.2; Jdt 11.19. 47 See the fitting statement of Luz 2007, 10 (GV = 2002a, 34): “The sending discourse . . . inaugurates, as it were, the ecclesiological continuation of Jesus’ activity.” 46

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The second appearance of σπλαγχνίζεσθαι in 14.14 is also instructive for discerning Matthew’s intent. In the short scene preceding the first feeding story, Jesus’ compassion for the crowd in Matthew does not ground—­as it does in Mark—­the fact that Jesus began to teach. Rather, Matthew has replaced the teaching through Jesus’ healings (cf. Matt 19.2 diff. Mark 10.1).48 These are an expression of his mercy. In 15.32 Jesus’ compassion then refers (­following Mark 8.2) to the hunger of the people who had already stayed three days with him, i.e., Jesus’ σπλαγχνίζεσθαι appears here as the trigger of the following miraculous feeding of the people. With regard to the mercy motif, 15.32–­39 thus forms, in a certain way, an analogy to 12.1–­8. Finally, Matthew has also redactionally inserted the talk of Jesus’ σπλαγχνίζεσθαι into the narrative of the healing of the two blind men at Jericho in 20.34 in which the petitionary cry ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς, κύριε, υἱὸς Δαυίδ addressed to Jesus already occurred (20.30, 31). While the pericope in Mark 10.52 concludes with the affirmation “your faith has saved you,” Matthew has omitted the motif of faith and instead—­in correspondence to the preceding petitionary cry—­emphasized again, in the context of Jesus’ healing activity, his compassion and mercy. With this we can say that against the background of the desolate situation of the afflicted people, Matthew emphasizes compassion and mercy as fundamental signatures of the mission and activity of Jesus. With his turning to the people, Jesus corresponds to the will of God expressed in Hos 6.6, for, according to it, mercy has the rank of a leading criterion, and, at the same time, he demonstrates what the prophetic saying means in its full sense. Jesus’ compassionate mercy manifests itself concretely in his interaction with sinners (9.13 as well as 9.36) and in his healing action (9.27; 14.14; 15.22; 17.15; 20.30, 31, 34), and yet hunger as physical need is also thematized (12.1–­8; 15.32–­39). Thus, the theme of mercy is by no means restricted to the forgiveness of sins here but also takes into view human beings in their physical situations of need. The same applies also to the mercy that is to be practiced by human beings toward one another. 2. Compassion and Mercy as Ethical Leading Motif in the Gospel of Matthew 2.1 Thematic Contexts of the Matthean Ethos of Mercy 2.1.1 Merciful Interaction with Sinners

In the argument to this point, alongside the connection between the idea of God’s mercy and the forgiveness of sins, the central importance that is assigned to the turning to sinners within the framework of the Matthean 48

On this, cf. above.



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presentation of the compassionate mercy of Jesus has become clear. In line with these theological and christological aspects, the interaction with sinners also has great significance for the ethical dimension of the theme of mercy. With 9.9–­13 and 18.21–­35, two significant texts—­which are also relevant in an ethical respect—­have already been discussed in detail in the preceding section, so that a short summary is sufficient here. However, what still needs to be incorporated is the earlier ethical instruction in Matt 18, where the question of the interaction with sinners—­which is connected to the theme of mercy through v. 33 —­also has leading significance.49 Prompted by the disciples’ faulty question, “who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” (v. 1), the discourse on community life in Matt 18 begins with an exhortation to self-­lowering, which is underscored by a symbolic action (vv. 2–­4). The ethos of lowliness that is introduced in vv. 1–­4 as the basis of the whole discourse is then made concrete in what follows.50 This takes place, first, in v. 5, in direct connection to the opening scene, through the exhortation to receive a child, while from v. 6 onward the theme pursued in this chapter comes into the foreground. Thus, the ethos of lowliness introduced in vv. 1–­4 is fundamentally exemplified with reference to the merciful interaction with sinners. No stumbling block should be prepared for community members who are not yet steadfast in their discipleship (v. 6).51 Such members should not be despised (v. 10), but as a shepherd searches for a sheep that has gone astray, care is to be taken for them so that they do not get lost (vv. 12–­14). The regulation for the practice of correction that follows in vv. 15–­17 then explains in detail how the search is to take place. One should not immediately seek the public context of the community but a corrective conversation in private.52 If this remains unsuccessful, the ‘poimenic’ task in relation to the sinner is not yet finished. Two further attempts—­with a successively expanded forum, which is meant to add emphasis to the correction—­are to be undertaken (vv. 16–­17). Here, it is noteworthy that the admonition in v. 15 alludes to Lev 19.17, i.e., the original context of the love commandment, and Matt 18.15—­in light of the original context of the commandment of love for neighbor in Lev 19.17–­18 and its early Jewish reception history, as it is documented, on the one hand, by CD 9.2–­8; 1QS 5.24–­6.1 and, on the 49

For a more detailed analysis of Matt 18, see Konradt 2016, 381–­412. On the structure or outline of the discourse in Matt 18, see Konradt 2020b, 272 (GV = 2015a, 282). 51 On this interpretation of the talk of the “small” (μικροί) in 18.6, 10, 14, see Konradt 2016, 387–­89. 52 Sir 18.13 illustrates that such ‘pastoral’ seeking and admonishing can be understood as an expression of mercy: “A person’s mercy (ἔλεος ἀνθρώπου) is upon his fellow, but the mercy of the Lord (ἔλεος κυρίου) is upon all flesh, when he corrects (ἐλέγχων, cf. Matt 18.15!) and instructs and teaches and turns as a shepherd does his flock” (trans. B. G. Wright, NETS; Konradt’s emphasis and insertions). 50

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other hand, by the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (see esp. T. Gad 6.3–­7!)53—­must consequently be understood as an application of the love commandment.54 If the sinner repents, then with the interhuman forgiveness the guilt is also deleted before God (v. 18). If the correction remains unsuccessful to the end so that the person involved must be excluded from the community, the community can still pray for the sinner, which is what v. 19, read in context, probably refers to. The concluding reference to Jesus being with the ones gathered in his name in v. 20 brings to the fore the christological basis of the preceding instructions. The disciples are gathered in the name of the one whose sending—­as 1.21 in the framework of an interpretation of the name Jesus indicates—­aims at saving his people from their sins. As we have seen, the continuation of the discourse in vv. 22–­35 is set in motion by a question of Peter: “How often will my brother sin against me and I should forgive him?” In section 1.1 it was shown that the parable that concludes the discourse in vv. 23–­35 serves in this context to make clear that Peter’s question cannot be adequately answered within the framework of an isolated consideration of the relationship between the two persons involved. For the parable directs our attention to the fact that the human being who is asked by a fellow human being for forgiveness is at the same time someone who himself lives out of the (incomparably greater) merciful forgiveness of God. In light of this fact, it must appear as an ‘impossible possibility’ to refuse forgiveness to one’s fellow human being. In short, the call for mercy in relation to sinners that is issued to the disciples is based theologically on a reflection on one’s own position before God. This theological embedding of the call for mercy in relation to sinners is reinforced by the christological basis of Matt 18, which emerges from the compositional placement of the discourse and comes to the fore in the discourse itself, as explained above, in v. 20: Matt 18 is Jesus’ speech to the disciples on the way to the passion.55 In Jerusalem Jesus will take death upon himself. He goes the way into lowliness so that forgiveness of sins may be granted to the “many” (20.28; 26.28). Viewed within this horizon, Matt 18 reads like a piece of applied Christology. The ethos of lowliness developed in the discourse (vv. 1–­4)—­which is illustrated, as we have seen, fundamentally with the reference to the interaction with sinners—­appears as an ethical implication of the way that Jesus himself has taken upon himself in his suffering in order to fulfill his task of saving 53

2018a.

On this, see Kugel 1987 and Konradt 2016, 396–­99. See now also Konradt

54 An application of the commandment of love for neighbor that is related to Matt 18.15 occurs within the New Testament in Jas 4.11–­12. On this, see Konradt 1998, 187–­92. 55 See, in greater detail, Konradt 2016, 381–­83.



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human beings from their sins (1.21). Whoever enters into his discipleship is himself directed to the way of lowliness and is obligated to care for sinners. The remembrance of one’s own position coram Deo (18.23–­35) makes clear that when one soberly and realistically contemplates one’s own situation, a different position from that of lowliness is in principle not even possible. Finally, the example that Jesus gave his disciples during his earthly activity in his merciful turning to sinners (9.9–­13), which represents a model that places them under obligation in their own actions in discipleship, fits with what has been said. In the character of the tax collector called by Jesus in 9.9 it becomes clear that the aspect of having received forgiveness (from God), which is central in 18.23–­ 35, must also be reflected upon here. For with Matthew (instead of Levi; cf. Mark 2.13) the evangelist names a disciple who belongs to the circle of the twelve, who is sent out by Jesus in 9.36–­11.1 in order to continue his activity, in which, as we have seen, the sending in 9.36 is connected with the mercy of Jesus in relation to the crowds. Here, it becomes paradigmatically visible that the task assigned to the disciples with their sending out is fundamentally characterized by the call to let the mercy of God, which has been bestowed upon them by Jesus, also benefit others by turning to those who are (still) lost—­or, in the words of 4.16, who are still sitting in the land and shadow of death—­to which they also previously belonged.56 Analogous to this, the practice of the forgiveness of sins within the community gathered in Jesus’ name (18.20) must be viewed in context with the fact that in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, the community members make present the forgiveness of sins that benefited and benefits them. Finally, the immense significance of the theme of forgiveness in Matthean ethics finds expression not least in the fact that from among the petitions of the Lord’s prayer only the petition for the remission of debts (6.12) is taken up in the following context (6.14–­15). Whoever is not ready to forgive his fellow human being cannot expect the forgiveness of his sins from God (cf. Sir 28.2–­5). 2.1.2 “What you have done to one of the least of these my brothers”: The Deeds of Mercy in Matt 25.31–­46

While the interaction with sinners in the Gospel of Matthew represents an extremely important field of application of the call for mercy, as indicated above, this is, analogous to the presentation of the compassionate mercy of Jesus, not restricted to this thematic context. Rather, mercy serves, in a comprehensive sense, as a leading perspective for interacting with human beings who—­in different ways in detail—­need help. This becomes 56

Cf. Konradt 2020b, 158 (GV = 2015a, 163).

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especially clear through the portrayal of the judgment of the world in Matt 25.31–­46. As in Matt 18.23–­35, within the framework of the Matthean conception of judgment, an importance that is determinative for salvation or ruin is assigned to action determined by mercy, a fact that underscores the weightiness of mercy. In a way that is complementary to 18.23–­35, however, the concern is not with the forgiveness of sins but with turning to human beings in situations of social plight, who are hungry, thirsty, or do not have adequate clothing or clothes at all, as well as to foreigners, the sick, and prisoners. The fact that these good deeds are to be classified as works of mercy is uncontroversial,57 even though the word itself does not appear in 25.31–­46. Still, from among the works mentioned here, feeding the hungry (12.7; see, further, also—­with σπλαγχνίζεσθαι—­15.32) and turning to the sick (9.27; 15.22; and elsewhere) are explicitly connected with the language of mercy. In terms of tradition history, the diversification of deeds of mercy in Matt 25, which are differentiated according to different situations of plight, is embedded in a whole series of similar texts in the ancient world58 that exhort people to turn to human beings in need or even make this into a criterion in the judgment.59 As is well known, the inculcation of the deeds of mercy experiences its distinctive intensification in the fact that the Son of Man judge adduces as justification for his verdict that these were done or refused to him, which provokes the “blessed of the Father” (v. 34) and the “cursed” (v. 31) to ask an astonished question in response (vv. 37–­39, 44) and, finally, prompts the Son of Man, in each case, to a resolution of the riddle, on which the emphasis rests as the goal of both rounds of dialogue (vv. 34–­40, 41–­45): what was done or not done to one of the least of the brothers was done or not done to him (vv. 40, 45). In contemporary scholarship, however, there is great controversy over what this sentence means exactly and in connection with this and with the interpretation of πάντα τὰ ἔθνη in v. 32 also how 25.31–­46 is to be 57 Thus, alongside burying the dead, Tobit’s many deeds of mercy (ἐλεημοσύνας πολλάς, Tob 1.16) include giving food to the hungry and clothing to the naked (τοὺς ἄρτους μου ἐδίδουν τοῖς πεινῶσιν καὶ τὰ ἱμάτιά μου τοῖς γυμνοῖς, 1.17; on this, cf. Tob [BA] 4.16). T. Iss. 5.2 speaks of mercy on the poor and weak/sick (πένητα καὶ ἀσθενῆ ἐλεᾶτε; cf. T. Benj. 4.4: τὸν πένητα ἐλεεῖ τῷ ἀσθενεῖ συμπαθεῖ). On mercy to the poor or socially needy, see, further, e.g., Ps 36.26LXX; Prov 14.21, 31; 17.5LXX; 19.17; 22.9LXX; 28.8; Tob (BA) 4.7–­8; Sir 29.1, 8–­10; T. Ash. 2.5–­7; Ps.-­Phoc. 23. On turning to foreigners, see T. Job 10.3 (for a detailed depiction of Job’s care for the poor in T. Job 9–­15, see Berger 1994, 94–­98). On T. Zeb., see the note at the end of the introduction to the present chapter. 58 For similar catalogues, see, e.g., Friedrich 1977, 164–­72. 59 For the latter, cf., e.g., 2 En. 9.1 or Midr. Ps. on Ps 118.17. For a profound overview of the significance of the theme of mercy in early Jewish wisdom, see Witte 2014.



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understood as a whole.60 Should the talk of the “least of these brothers” of the Son of Man (v. 40) or “the least” (v. 45) be related solely to Christians61 or, more specifically, to itinerant Christian missionaries62? Or should it, alternatively, be related to all human beings in a situation of need63? If the “least of these brothers” were to refer to Christians alone and πάντα τὰ ἔθνη was, further, to be related to non-­Christ-­believing humanity (with or without Israel), then, according to 25.31–­46, these would be judged in the last judgment by how they behaved in relation to Christians—­the passage would then be something like a text of comfort for harassed disciples.64 For the ‘narrow reading’ of the talk of the “least of these brothers,” one can appeal to the inner-­ecclesial orientation of the term “brother” in 18.15, 21, 35; 23.8; and above all Jesus speaks in 12.48–­50 and 28.10 of the disciples as his brothers. Further, as an analogy to the way that Jesus is set in relation to the “least (brothers)” in 25.40, 45, reference can be made to 10.40–­42, which is concerned with the disciples. None of these arguments, however, is really convincing. In 5.22–­24 and 7.3–­5, there is talk of fellow human beings as “brothers” that is not specifically related to followers of Jesus. And in each case, this talk functions as an appeal that is meant to evoke the idea of interhuman solidarity.65 Matt 10.40–­42 has a counterpart in 18.5, where the statement “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me” cannot be restricted to ‘Christian’ children in particular. In terms of tradition history, we can add that the closest parallels to the figure of argumentation in vv. 40, 45 in Prov 14.31; 19.17; 2 En. 44.1–­2 have in view those who are in need in general. In particular, however, it is not reasonable to assume that the behavior of others toward Christians is meant to be thematized here. The concrete textual placement of Matt 25.31–­46 speaks against this view. In 24.32–­25.30 Matthew has presented a detailed paraenesis to be watchful that clearly and urgently set before the eyes of the addressees the need to be constantly prepared for the parousia of the Lord through a good life 60 For an overview of the types of interpretation for Matt 25.31–­46, see Luz 2005c, 267–­74 (GV = 1997, 521–­30). 61 See, e.g., Gewalt 1973, 15–­16; Friedrich 1977, 238–­39, 248–­49; Harrington 1991, 357, 358; Stanton 1992a, 214–­21. 62 See, e.g., Luz 2005c, 279–­81 (GV = 1997, 537–­39); Suh 2006, 226–­33. 63 For a detailed justification of this interpretation with a refutation of the exclusive interpretation of the “least of these brothers,” see Niemand 1997. See further, e.g., Grindheim 2008, 328–­30; Ebner 2011, 218–­21; McMahon 2016, 560–­61. 64 See for this interpretation, e.g., Friedrich 1977, 266–­67; Stanton 1992a, 208, 210–­11, 229–­30. 65 See the accurate formulation of Niemand 1997, 295: “Matthew is familiar with brother terminology in the community discourse and means by that Christians; and he is familiar with a brother terminology in the Sermon on the Mount that is ethical-­motivational and applies concretely-­universally.”

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conduct. A text of comfort for (harassed) disciples would simply be dysfunctional after 24.32–­25.30. Put differently, following 24.32–­25.30 we can scarcely expect something other than a portrayal of judgment that (at least also) applies to the disciples,66 especially since this is reinforced by the fact that Matthew has also previously related statements of judgment to the community in a paraenetic way (e.g., 7.13–­27; 18.23–­35; 22.11–­14). Last but not least, only a paraenetic understanding of the text does justice to the fact that the center of gravity in 25.31–­46 undeniably lies on the fourfold portrayal of the deeds of mercy.67 Thus, the “least of these brothers” must be understood to mean all human beings who are suffering hardship; the expression πάντα τὰ ἔθνη serves here to indicate the universality of the judgment—­what is meant is all humanity, including the disciples of Jesus.68 Those who are suffering hardship, since they do not form a statically defined group, are also not exempt.69 Rather, “people who in one respect are needy, or are needy in a particular situation in life, in other respects or life situations might themselves be among those who can offer help. Thus 25:31–­46 outlines a judgment scenario in which all people are judged according to how they respond in situations in which they could offer help to those in need.”70 From the perspective of the pragmatics of the text, we must even say more sharply that the primary concern is to impress upon the Christian readers and hearers of the Gospel of Matthew that they will be measured in the final judgment by their behavior toward those in need. Here, it may be the case that in their daily life they are de facto dealing primarily with needy community members. Nevertheless, a restriction in principle to Christians cannot, as we have seen, be justified on the basis of the use of the term “brother” in v. 40. Furthermore, the shortening of ἑνὶ τούτων τῶν ἀδελφῶν μου τῶν ἐλαχίστων through the removal of τῶν ἀδελφῶν μου in v. 45 could scarcely be adequately justified by appealing to the “tendency to abbreviate in the second part of the dialogue”71 (vv. 41–­45) if the brother title were of decisive importance for the identification of the group that was in view. Rather, the tone lies on the fact that the focus is on the behavior toward the “least,” which was characterized, by way of example, through the situations of need that are mentioned. The fact that the Son of 66

Cf. Luz 2005c, 275 (GV = 1997, 531). Cf. Niemand 1997, 306, 321. 68 Cf., e.g., Luz 2005c, 275 (GV = 1997, 531): “‘All the nations’ are most likely all peoples of the earth, including the church”; Grindheim 2008, 327–­28; Ebner 2011, 221–­27, 228. 69 See also Ebner 2011, 228. 70 Konradt 2020b, 377–­78 (original emphasis) (GV = 2015a, 392–­93). 71 Thus Luz 2005c, 282 (GV = 1997, 541: “Raffungstendenzen im zweiten Dialogteil”). 67



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Man designates them, beyond this, as “his brothers” serves to underline his solidarity with them. The statement in vv. 40, 45 should not be overextended to mean that a (mystical) identification of Jesus with the needy is realized. Rather, what is decisive is the fact that there is such a close fellowship of solidarity between the Son of Man and those suffering hardships that what is done or left undone in relation to them is simultaneously regarded as something that is done or not done to the Son of Man, Jesus.72 The fact that the Son of Man is designated as king in vv. 34, 40 signals not only from an intertextual perspective that it is incumbent upon the king to ensure that the rights of the poor are upheld (cf. Ps 72; Prov 29.14). Rather, at the same time, and above all intratextually, “it is to be remembered that the earthly ministry of the royal messiah Jesus placed compassionate devotion to human need at its very center (e.g., 9:13, 27, 36), which, among other things, included feeding the hungry (15:32; cf. 12:1–­8). As the Judge he operates by the same criterion by which he himself lived.”73 2.2 Mercy as a Central Demand of the Torah: Matt 23.23 With Matt 18.23–­35 and 25.31–­46, the concluding sections of the last two great discourses of Jesus stand at the center in our preceding argument. In both discourses the thematization of the final judgment—­which comes to the fore, as is usual, at the end—­is developed in a material-­ethical concrete way with a view to the required action. The fact that both cases—­in a mutually supplementing way—­are concerned with mercy, with mercy toward sinners, on the one hand, and with the merciful turning to human beings in different situations of physical need, on the other hand, reflects the weight of mercy in Matthean ethics: the question of salvation or ruin is decided with reference to the deeds of mercy. The fact that mercy, in Matthean ethics, plays not merely a subsidiary role but rather stands in the center of the Matthean understanding of the will of God that is to be practiced by the disciples is emphatically underlined by the fundamental significance of the prophetic saying from Hos 6.6 as a hermeneutical key to the Matthean understanding of the will of God as it finds expression in “the Torah and the Prophets” (5.17; 7.12; 22.40). This aspect, however, finds what is probably its clearest expression in 23.23. As in 12.7 the concern is with the proper weighting among the commandments, and, as in 9.13 and 12.7, the Pharisees form the counterpart from whose interpretation Jesus demarcates his own understanding of the will of God. While Jesus makes recourse in 9.13 and 12.7 to 72 73

Cf. Brandenburger 1994, 315; Niemand 1997, 315–­16. Konradt 2020b, 379 (GV = 2015a, 394).

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a prophetic witness, now there is explicit talk of what is weightier in the Law (τὰ βαρύτερα τοῦ νόμου). Still, the triad κρίσις, ἔλεος, and πίστις is probably influenced by another prophetic saying, namely by Mic 6.8, where God’s demand for humans is likewise summarized in a triad.74 What must be done is to “practice justice, love mercy, and be prepared to walk with the Lord, your God” (LXX: ποιεῖν κρίμα καὶ ἀγαπᾶν ἔλεον καὶ ἕτοιμον εἶναι τοῦ πορεύεσθαι μετὰ κυρίου θεοῦ σου). While, against this background, πίστις in Matt 23.23 refers to faithfulness in relation to God, ἔλεος appears as a common denominator for interhuman interaction. Thus, if, according to Matt 23.23, the demand of the Torah that is central with regard to social behavior consists in mercifully encountering one’s fellow human being, then here mercy occupies the position that the commandment of love for neighbor holds according to 22.34–­40 (and 19.1975). This juxtaposition points in no way to a conceptual tension in Matthean ethics but rather solely to the close connection and extensive overlap between love and mercy. The love commandment makes the well-being of the neighbor the central perspective for action. The call for mercy makes this concrete with regard to human beings in situations of need or distress, whether they be social in character or of another nature. If one surveys the three attestations of ἔλεος in Matt 9.13; 12.7; 23.23, then the powerful tying back of the talk of mercy to the scriptures of Israel in the Gospel of Matthew becomes clear. Mercy is introduced as a leading motif of action through a prophetic saying and additionally presented as a main point of the Torah. This finding is reinforced further by the fact that the petitionary cry “Lord, have mercy,” which is addressed to Jesus on multiple occasions, takes up, as we have seen, the language of the Psalms. For the theme of mercy, what is characteristic for the Gospel of Matthew in general holds true in a special way: the story of Jesus is most closely tethered to the scriptures of Israel; it is, as the genealogy in 1.2–­17 already signals, the complex of events to which the story of God with his people since Abraham has led. 2.3 The Beatitude of the Merciful in Matt 5.7 The significance of the ethos of mercy is further reflected in the already mentioned beatitude in Matt 5.7. In comparison to the macarisms in Q, whose content is probably accurately given by Luke 6.20–­23 in terms of scope, the carefully composed series in Matt 5.3–­1276 is not only significantly 74

Cf. Davies/Allison 1997, 293, 294. For the attachment of the commandment of love for neighbor in 19.19 and its summary function, see Konradt 2016, 98. 76 As in Q 6.20–­23 the last beatitude is clearly demarcated from the previous ones by its greater length. In Matthew, another differentiating characteristic lies in the fact that 75



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expanded but, with its ethicizing tendency in vv. 3–­10, to which only v. 4 forms an exception,77 is also given a new orientation in terms of content.78 However, from the seven ‘ethical’ macarisms in vv. 3–­10, with vv. 6, 8, 10 three contain no material-­ethical concrete specification. Thus, ‘only’ four contentually specified ethical characterizations remain. We will not error in assuming that what is adduced here at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount is of cardinal importance for the evangelist: humility (v. 3),79 meekness (v. 5), peacemaking (v. 9), and mercy (v. 7). Through the promissory statement inspired by 5.45 (cf. Q 6.35), Matthew connects peacemaking with the commandment of love for the enemy,80 which includes merciful interaction with the misdeeds of the other. Humility (though with a different word choice) and meekness occur in 11.29 as characterizations of Jesus, who says of himself: πραΰς εἰμι (cf. also 21.5) καὶ ταπεινὸς τῇ καρδίᾳ.81 Thus, the ethical characterizations in the series of macarisms fit on the whole into the motif of the orientation of the disciples to the model of Jesus. The talk of the ἐλεήμονες in 5.7a should be understood comprehensively in light of the overall findings: The merciful, who are called blessed because they receive mercy in the judgment, are those who turn to the sinners (9.10–­13; 18.10–­35), feed the hungry, give water to those who are thirsty, receive foreigners, give the naked something to wear, visit sick persons and prisoners (25.35–­36), or, also, give alms (ἐλεημοσύνη) to the needy (cf. 6.2–­4; see further 6.19–­21; 19.21).82 only the last beatitude is formulated in the second person plural (Matt 5.11–­12). The first eight macarisms can be subdivided into two blocks of four in which a macarism that contains a leading word of the whole Sermon on the Mount, namely, “righteousness,” forms the conclusion (v. 6, 10). The first group is also set off from the second group by the consistent π-alliteration in the designation of the ones who are called blessed. Last but not least, the intentional compositional shaping can also be seen in the fact that the evangelist has formed an inclusio through the repetition of the promissory statement of v. 3b in v. 10b: “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” 77 The expression “poor in spirit” is probably best understood in the sense of “the humble,” though we cannot exclude an interpretation in the sense of “people whose vital energy is at a low ebb, lacking ‘life-­spirit,’ i.e., the despondent, despairing” (see Konradt 2020b, 66). For an ethical understanding of v. 3 in the sense of “the humble,” see, e.g., Dupont 1973, 457–­71; Strecker 1985, 33–­34. For a nuanced interpretation, see Luz 2007, 190–­93 (GV = 2002a, 277–­79). 78 With respect to the difficult and controversial question of whether the additional macarisms are Matthean, go back to a Q-recension that has been expanded vis-­à-­vis Q 6.20–­23, or come from Matthew’s special material, I think it is most plausible to assume that the expansions have been formed by the evangelist himself and/or come from the environment of his community. This viewpoint, however, cannot be discussed in detail here. 79 On this, see above. 80 On this, cf. Schnackenburg 1982, 167–­69. 81 On this, see chapter 7 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2018b). 82 According to Green 2001, 209, the idea of mercy in 5.7 covers “two distinct areas,” namely “the relief of need and the forgiveness of sin.”

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2.4 Compassion and Empathy: The Inner Affirmation of One’s Fellow Human Beings as Presupposition of Mercy A presupposition for the loving, merciful turning to the neighbor in need is the act of not turning one’s eyes from his or her situation of need but rather letting oneself be moved by the plight of the other in such a way that its removal, irrespective of the possible guilt of the other,83 is apprehended as the goal of the encounter with him or her. As we have seen, in the presentation of the activity of Jesus, the word σπλαγχνίζεσθαι is often used for this: Jesus sees the plight of the crowds and has compassion on them (9.36; 14.14; 15.32). In contrast to this, the faulty behavior of the servant in Matt 18.23–­35 lies precisely in the fact that he had no compassion for his fellow servant. In the artfully composed narrative, the petition of the servant in relation to his master in v. 26b and the petition made to him by his fellow servant in v. 29 are almost identical in wording. Likewise, the speech introductions are configured in parallel, with only the exception that the proskunesis (v. 26a) that is due to the king (= God) is replaced by παρακαλεῖν in v. 29a. Against the background of the consonance between v. 26 and v. 29, the contrast between v. 27 and v. 30 comes into view all the more sharply. The compassion that the Lord had with him on account of his petition (v. 27: σπλαγχνισθείς) and that led the Lord to an extremely generous demonstration of mercy is juxtaposed with the servant’s indignation toward his fellow servant, which is already signaled through the violent seizure of the fellow servant in v. 28b. The servant does not let himself be touched by the plight of the other but insists on his (supposed) right. The experience of mercy has not changed him; he acts without compassion. In an especially drastic form, the servant, with his behavior, has offended against the Golden Rule,84 which appears in Matt 7.12 in a positive formulation85 and which, through the Matthean addition that this is the Law and the Prophets (v. 12b), functions, alongside Matt 22.34–­40 and 23.23, as a third summary formulation of the will of God. As such it also applies to the case of asymmetrical relationships, as is the case in 18.28–­30. The Golden Rule demands that a person view a situation from the perspective of the other and orient one’s own action to what one would wish the behavior of the other to be if one were in the situation of the other. The unmerciful servant, by contrast, has not let the other be benefited by what he not only wished for himself but had even received in a much 83 Cf. T. Benj. 4.2: “For a good man does not have a blind eye, but he is merciful to all, even though they may be sinners” (trans. H. C. Kee, OTP 1: 826). 84 Cf. Davies/Allison 1991, 801. See also Nolland 2005, 758. On the understanding of the Golden Rule and its different variants, see Konradt 2015b. 85 On the difference between the negative and positive formulation of the Golden Rule, see Theißen 2003.



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greater way. His compassionless and merciless behavior toward his fellow servant therefore becomes ex negativo a vivid example of the fact that the capacity for empathy demanded by the Golden Rule must actually be continually nourished by experiences of one’s own neediness and especially through the sober consideration of one’s own situation in relation to God. The idea of judgment that pointedly stands at the end of the parable makes the narrative a warning for the addressees. Furthermore, the application in v. 35 clearly connects the parable back to the question of Peter in v. 21. If they refuse forgiveness to their fellow human beings or limit their readiness to forgive, then they also will not be able to stand in the judgment. The characterization of the forgiveness that is required from the disciples—­and that is necessary for a positive outcome in the judgment—­with the words ἀπὸ τῶν καρδιῶν ὑμῶν (v. 35) makes clear here that the concern cannot be with a forgiveness that is compelled by the mere fear of judgment. In the Matthean anthropology, “heart” means the center of the person, which encompasses thinking and willing.86 Thus, what matters is the attitude toward the fellow human being in his or her plight, i.e., the inner, voluntary affirmation of turning to him or her.87 3. Summary If we survey the whole, it becomes clear that the central position of mercy in Matthean ethics organically emerges from the picture of God and the Christology of the Gospel of Matthew. The call for mercy is embedded in the fact that the disciples let their action be determined by the mercy of God that they have experienced themselves and the merciful activity of Jesus that grounds their Christian existence, namely, by letting these experiences flow further in their own actions. Mercy is accordingly not an isolated demand in the Matthean story of Jesus that stands on its own but rather is theologically grounded in the sense of the imitatio Dei and is a fundamental expression of the discipleship of Christ. Put differently, it is an essential manifestation of Christian identity, which is determined by the relationship to God and to Christ. In this grounding it is implicit that compassionate mercy toward those who are in need cannot be an action that a Christian person must decide forever anew in view of a decision between options for action that is open in principle but rather a fundamental ethical attitude that organically grows out of the believing conviction of the mercy of God as it has shown itself in the messianic activity of Jesus. 86

Cf. Luz 2007, 196 (GV = 2002a, 285). Cf. Luz 2001, 476 (GV = 1997, 75), who infers from the attachment of ἀπὸ τῶν καρδιῶν ὑμῶν that “the forgiveness of sins involves not merely that one is outwardly reconciled with one’s brothers and sisters but also that one affirms them completely (eine ganzheitliche Zuwendung zu ihnen).” 87

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This is reinforced by the fact that deeds of mercy are grounded in the inner affirmation of one’s fellow human beings.88 If such deeds remain undone, this has soteriological consequences in the last judgment. As Jesus’ earthly activity as the royal messiah was fundamentally characterized by his merciful turning to human beings, so he carries out, with his royal authority (25.34, 40), the last judgment according to the criterion of mercy. The latter is given further contours through the fact that the Matthean Jesus has singled out mercy as the main point of the legal order of the Torah (23.23). It is therefore only consistent also in this respect that the deeds of mercy function as a standard in the judgment in 25.31–­46. Blessed are alone the merciful, for they will obtain mercy.

88

From an ecclesiological perspective, we must add that mercy, since discipleship for Matthew is embedded in a community context, is at the same time also a distinguishing feature of the structure of the community, which is meant to characterize life together in the church.

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“Take My Yoke upon You and Learn from Me!” (Matt 11.29) Matthew 11.28–­30 and the Christological Dimension of Matthean Ethics

In recent decades, Matthean scholarship has stood under the leading question of the relationship of the evangelist and his community to Judaism.1 Under the banner of this framework debate, which is not yet concluded, the discussion of Matthean ethics in the recent history of scholarship has primarily focused on the question of the meaning and interpretation of the Torah.2 The different positions on the relationship of the Matthean community (or communities) to Judaism are reflected cum grano salis in the controversy over this question. On the one side, it is postulated that Jesus stands over the Torah3 and that the Torah is marginalized4 or even overcome5 by the instruction of Jesus or ‘aufgehoben’ (sublated)6 in it in

1

For a presentation of the issues, see chapter 1 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 3–­42). The present chapter is a lightly revised version of my main paper at the 72nd General Meeting of the SNTS on August 8, 2017, in Pretoria. The lecture form has been largely retained. For the German version, see Konradt 2018b. 2 For an overview of scholarship, see Repschinski 2009, 57–­68; and, previously, Loader 1997, 137–­50. 3 Thus, e.g., in recent scholarship, Yieh 2004, 34–­35; and tendentially also in Carlston/Evans 2014, 95–­241. 4 In this vein, see, e.g., Foster 2004, 257–­58 and elsewhere. 5 Thus, e.g., Thielman 1999, 49, 69–­72; Menninger 1994, 103–­33. 6 In German the word ‘aufheben’ can have the double meaning of ‘to cancel or abolish’ and ‘to preserve or maintain.’ In English, this word has been translated with a variety of terms, including ‘sublate,’ ‘sublimate,’ ‘annul,’ and ‘abolish.’ The translation ‘sublate/sublated’ is often used when both meanings are in view. In Hegel, this term also conveys the meaning ‘to raise up.’ See, e.g., Magee 2010, 238. 159

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the double sense of the word,7 which is why, according to this reading, the risen one does not obligate the disciples to the Torah but to his commandments in 28.19–­20. Over against this interpretive approach with its subvariants stands the view—­which has currently established itself as the majority position—­that Matthew regards himself as standing firmly on the ground of the Torah8 and seeks to present Jesus in conflict with the Pharisees as the true interpreter of the Torah. The reference to what is commanded by Jesus in 28.20 is said to include, with the reference to the Sermon on the Mount contained in it, also the instruction in the Torah in the sense of the interpretation of Jesus.9 This interpretive option also appears in different subvariants. Roughly speaking, the one group emphasizes the validity of all the commandments and even concludes from this that the “Matthean Judaism”10 required circumcision from gentile Christians.11 The other group focuses more strongly on the weighting among the commandments (5.18–­19; 12.5–­7; 22.34–­40; 23.23) as a fundamental element of the Matthean Torah hermeneutic, which lets mercy (9.13; 12.7; 23.23) and—­radically understood—­love (5.43–­48; 19.19–­21; 22.34–­40) as well as the—­no less radically understood—­Decalogue commandments of the second table (5.21–­32;12 15.19–­20; 19.18–­19) come to the fore as leading aspects,13 while suggesting that with respect to sabbath observance 7

Thus, Deines 2005, 400, 434 (see also Deines 2008, 73–­80). Cf. also Chester 2007, 501–­6, who sees in the antitheses “an eschatological transcending of the provision of Torah” (505 [original emphasis]). “It is both taken up and transformed” (505). 8 See, e.g., Overman 1990, 86–­90; Saldarini 1994, 124–­164; Sim 1998b, 123–­39; Loader 1997, 137–­272; Vahrenhorst 2002; Kampen 2019, 85–­111; chapters 4 and 5 in the present volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 288–­315 and 316–­47); and Repschinski 2009, 70–­141, who stresses the connection to the prophetic tradition with respect to the new interpretation of the Law by Jesus. 9 See, e.g., Luz 2005c, 633–­34 (GV = 2002b, 455); Sim 1998b, 126. 10 For this designation, see Overman 1990, 2 and elsewhere; Runesson 2008, 100. See further Saldarini 1994, 1, 4, 7–­8 and elsewhere; Sim 1998b, 163 and elsewhere; Kampen 2019. For a critical response to this approach, see Hagner 2003. 11 For the thesis that circumcision is lacking in 28.19–­20 because it is presupposed as self-­evidently obligatory, see, e.g., Sim 1996; Slee 2003, 141–­44; Runesson 2016, 31–­36; and, cautiously, Loader 1997, 252–­53, 264. For the opposing position that circumcision plays no role in the mission to the gentiles for Matthew, see the justification in section 4 of chapter 1 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 23–­36). 12 If the question of a possible connection to the Decalogue for Matt 5.33–­37 is raised, then we should probably refer not—­at least not primarily—­to the ninth commandment but rather to the third commandment. See section 2.1.3 of chapter 5 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 337–­40). 13 With different emphases in detail, see, e.g., Schweizer 1970, 214–­16; Sand 1974, esp. 187–­93; Wong 1992, 36–­55; Repschinski 2009, esp. 138–­40 (emphasis on “prophecy in the light of ἔλεος as a hermeneutical instrument of Matthean interpretation of the law” [139]); Ziethe 2018, 288–­309; and chapters 4, 5, and 6 in the present volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 288–­315, 316–­47, 413–­41).



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(12.1–­14; 24.20) and purity stipulations (15.1–­20; 23.25–­26), it is necessary to speak not, to be sure, of abrogation in principle, but indeed of their de facto marginalization in favor of the aforementioned ethical fundamental principles. Whoever works on Matthean ethics cannot bypass the question of the Torah. This applies also to the following argument in which the focus is nevertheless placed on the fact that Matthean ethics are by no means comprehensively marked out and exhaustively addressed with the discussion of the position on the Torah or the analysis of the Torah interpretation of the Matthean Jesus. For neither is the ethical instruction reduceable to the interpretation of the Torah nor can Matthean ethics be sufficiently drawn out exclusively on the basis of the explicitly didactic parts.14 It goes hand in hand with this that the christological dimension of ethics in the Gospel of Matthew cannot be adequately specified solely through an analysis of Jesus’ role as teacher of the Torah. Aspects of Christ mimesis appear alongside the explicit teaching. In particular, however, the christological foundation of the ethics must be mapped out more comprehensively than what can be seen from an orientation to the role of Jesus as teacher. In the present chapter I wish to work this out and illustrate it from the starting point of Jesus’ invitation in Matt 11.28–­30 (section 1). While the theme of the Torah undoubtedly comes into play here as an important aspect, the ethical content of the text, as will be demonstrated against a widespread interpretive tendency, is not exhausted in obligating human beings to Jesus’ teaching on the commandments of the Torah. The results are next given sharper contours through an inquiry into the narrative embedding of the development of ethics in the Gospel of Matthew and into the macrocompositional function of 11.28–­30 (section 2). At the end, I will then summarize my reflections in a short conclusion (section 3). 1. The Invitation of Jesus in Matthew 11.28–­30 The invitation of Jesus in 11.28–­30 was probably first joined by Matthew to the passage of 11.25–­27 (cf. Luke 10.21–­22), which was taken over from the Sayings Source.15 It is usually assumed that vv. 28–­30 is based on a piece of tradition16 that Matthew has, however, reworked. Since the 14

Cf. Burridge 2007, esp. 25–­31, who rightly emphasizes that in the Gospels not only the didactic parts but also the narratives as a whole must be taken into view. In his chapter on the Gospel of Matthew (187–­225), however, he fails to provide a substantial and differentiated analysis of the relationship between the narrative development and the unfolding of the ethics. Cf., further, Allison 2005, esp. 149–­53. 15 Cf., e.g., Suggs 1970, 77–­81; Deutsch 1987, 48–­49. On the postulate of the original unity of 11.25–­30 in older scholarship, see the critical review in Betz 1967, 11–­20. 16 In Gos. Thom. 90 (cf. also Pistis Sophia 95), we find a shorter logion that is related to Matt 11.28–­30: “Jesus says: come to me, for my yoke is easy, and my lordship

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details necessarily remain speculative,17 I will concentrate in what follows on the interpretation of the version that we now have before us. In the Matthean context the invitation of Jesus in vv. 28–­30 is issued on the basis of the exclusive role and significance of Jesus, whose christological unpacking the preceding revelatory saying in v. 27 had led to a provisional high point: the Father is only known by the Son and by the one to whom the Son wishes to reveal him. Jesus’ exhortation to come to him thus stands under the horizon of the view that knowledge of God, of his activity and will, is accessible in an exclusive way through him. In my view, the structure of the present text can most plausibly be determined in such a way that the two members of the introductory verse—­i.e., the invitation in v. 28a and the promise in v. 28b—­are taken up in what follows and respectively provided with a justification. This means that “come to me” (v. 28a) is unpacked by the exhortation “take my yoke upon you and learn from me” (v. 29a, b), which finds its justification18 in the fact that Jesus is meek and humble of heart.19 The promise “and I will give you rest” (v. 28b) is varied to “and you will find rest for your souls” (v. 29d), and those who are addressed find rest because Jesus’ yoke is mild and his burden is is kind. And you will find repose for yourselves” (trans. Ehrman/Pleše 2011, 331). J. B. Bauer 1961, 103 reconstructs the wording of the Greek Vorlage (on this, see the justification in Gathercole 2014, 95–­102), as follows: λέγει Ἰησοῦς· δεῦτε πρός με, ὅτι χρηστός ἐστιν ὁ ζυγός μου καὶ ἡ κυριότης μου πραειά ἐστιν, καὶ εὑρήσετε ἀνάπαυσιν ὑμῖν. If Gos. Thom. 90 were independent of Matt 11.28–­30 (thus, e.g., Betz 1967, 19; DeConick 1990), then this version could cast light on the pre-­Matthean tradition. This presupposition, however, is doubtful in light of the fact that elsewhere in the Gospel of Thomas the influence of the Gospel of Matthew cannot be denied (see, e.g., Gathercole 2014, 178–­80; for a lucid overview of the difficult question of the relationship between Gos. Thom. and the Synoptics as a whole, see Gathercole 2012, 127–­224; on Gos. Thom. 90 in particular, see 136–­37). Fieger 1991, 236, adduces the possibility that Gos. Thom. 90 represents a quotation from memory of Matt 11.28–­30 that abbreviates the Vorlage. 17 Matt 11.29c (ὅτι πραΰς εἰμι καὶ ταπεινὸς τῇ καρδίᾳ) is usually regarded as redactional (see, e.g., Luomanen 1998, 113–­14). Beyond this, Luz 2001, 157 (GV = 1990, 199), regards it as conceivable that Matthew “has inserted πάντες in v. 28 and that there and in v. 30 he inserted the image of the burden” so that a composition without a double member arises (cf. below). 18 Taken by itself, the ὅτι that introduces v. 29 could be causal (“because”) or introduce an object clause in an explicative way (“that”). For the latter, see Betz 1967, 23, with n98; Strecker 1971, 174; Luz 2001, 156, 174 (GV = 1990, 198, 221); Davies/Allison 1991, 290, leave the question open. Against the second option stands the supplementing of the imperative μάθετε with ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ, with which a subsequent specification of the content of what is to be learned about Jesus does not fit well (cf. Verseput 1986, 147). Expressed positively, v. 29c grounds the preceding imperative (thus the majority of interpreters; see, e.g., Gundry 1994, 218; Nolland 2005, 477). 19 On the linking of πραΰς and ταπεινός, cf. Isa 26.6; Zeph 3.12. On the expression ταπεινὸς τῇ καρδίᾳ, see Dan 3.87.



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light (v. 30a, b).20 The two grounding statements correspond to each other. In both cases the justification runs via christological statements. 1.1 The Interpretation of Matt 11.28–­30 against the Backdrop of Early Jewish Wisdom Traditions The tradition-­historical background of Matt 11.28–­30 is usually sought in the early Jewish wisdom traditions,21 in which there are various invitations to come to Wisdom or to seek her.22 In the wake of this tradition-­historical contextualization, the thematic connection of Jesus’ exhortation to take up his yoke and learn from him (v. 29) is focused on the following of the instruction of Jesus. The closeness to Sir 51.23–­27, in particular, is indeed not to be denied, for there we find not only the exhortation to bow the neck under the yoke (v. 26) but also the motif of rest (v. 27: ἀνάπαυσιν; cf. 6.28). More precisely, the student of Wisdom found much rest 20

There is no lack of alternative suggestions. Some find a ring composition in the verses. Deutsch 1987, 40 identifies v. 29a, b (ἄρατε τὸν ζυγόν μου ἐφ’ ὑμᾶς καὶ μάθετε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ) as the center (= c) and coordinates v. 28a and v. 30 as a and a' as well as v. 28b and vv. 29c, d as b and b' to each other. This is, to be sure, already difficult insofar as b' does not merely repeat b but is expanded by the preceding justification ὅτι πραΰς εἰμι καὶ ταπεινὸς τῇ καρδίᾳ. By contrast, Van de Sandt 2011, 327 draws v. 29c to the central member (similarly Luz 2001, 156 [GV = 1990, 198], though Luz divides v. 29ab and v. 29c as c and d) but must, in order to obtain one member, choose the unlikely option of seeing an object clause introduced with ὅτι (see above). Against both subvariants of the postulated ring composition the further objection must be made that a' refers only (contrastively) to the object of the exhortation in a, without taking up the exhortation itself, and the talk of yoke in a' finds its counterpart in c. Some join the analysis of the composition with the attempt to identify Matthean insertions into a well-­structured piece of tradition. Thus, e.g., Laansma 1997, 192–­93, eliminates v. 29b–­c (καὶ μάθετε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ, ὅτι πραΰς εἰμι καὶ ταπεινὸς τῇ καρδίᾳ) as a Matthean addition and then obtains a five-­liner composed of two exhortations and two promises with a concluding statement of justification (cf. Davies/ Allison 1991, 237–­38, 290; similarly, but with μάθετε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ as part of the piece of tradition, see also Stanton 1992a, 369–­70). Beyond this, Luz 2001, 157 (GV = 1990, 199) considers the possibility that the second part is secondary in all the double members and deletes in the five-­liner—­in addition to καὶ μάθετε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ and v. 29c (as a whole)—­ also καὶ πεφορτισμένοι (v. 28) and καὶ τὸ φορτίον μου ἐλαφρόν ἐστιν (v. 30b). Under the assumption that Gos. Thom. 90 and Matt 11.28–­30 are witnesses of an older tradition that are independent of each other, DeConick 1990 incorporates Gos. Thom 90 into the reconstruction and postulates as a core a combination from Matt 11.28 with Gos. Thom 90: “Come to me all who are laboring and are heavy-­laden and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy and my lordship is mild and you will find rest for yourselves” (289). 21 See Christ 1970, 100–­119; Suggs 1970, 99–­108; Deutsch 1987, 113–­39; Luz 2001, 171–­74 (GV = 1990, 217–­19); Gnilka 1988, 433, 439–­40; Lips 1990, 282–­85; Luck 1993, 141–­43; Frankemölle 1997, 126–­29; Lybæk 2002, 148–­53; France 2007, 441–­42, 447–­51; Carlston/Evans 2014, 86, and others. 22 Prov 1.20–­23; 8; Sir 6.18–­37; 24.19; 51.23–­27; Wis 6.11–­16 and elsewhere.

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(πολλὴν ἀνάπαυσιν), although he toiled only a little (ὀλίγον ἐκοπίασα;23 cf. as contrast οἱ κοπιῶντες in Matt 11.28). Since Wisdom in Sirach is closely connected to the Torah (Sir 24),24 the concern here is ultimately with the aspect of conducting one’s life according to the Torah. This is reinforced by the fact that the metaphor of the yoke—­following the wisdom tradition—­was also related to the Torah (2 Bar. 41.3; m. Abot 3.525). Viewed against this background, it is said that Matthew can be understood in such a way that Jesus—­possibly as personified Wisdom—­exhorts his hearers to follow his instruction. Or, if one follows the current majority view on the Matthean Jesus’ position in relation to the Torah, Jesus would call his hearers to take the yoke of the Torah in the sense of his interpretation on themselves and learn from him.26 If one pursues this track set by the wisdom tradition, the opportunity presents itself to understand the exhortation in 11.29 from the perspective of the Sermon on the Mount as a programmatic ethical speech and at the same time to fill it with content. Matthew has framed the body of the Sermon on the Mount (5.17–­7.12) with two statements on the Law and the Prophets. First, he has placed at the beginning the programmatic statement that Jesus did not come to abolish the Torah or the Prophets but to fulfill them. Second, he has detached the Golden Rule from its presumed context in Q (cf. Luke 6.31), placed it at the end of the body, and furnished it with the commentary that this is the Law and the Prophets. The fact that the Lukan Sermon on the Plain never speaks explicitly of the νόμος suggests that Matthew has redactionally brought Jesus’ teaching material here into an explicit connection to the Torah. In the body of the Sermon on the Mount, this connection to the Torah finds its clearest expression in the antitheses, which, in the context of 23

Cf. Sir 6.19: “for in cultivation of her you will toil little (ἐν γὰρ τῇ ἐργασίᾳ αὐτῆς ὀλίγον κοπιάσεις), and you will soon eat of her produce” (trans. B. G. Wright in NETS); Wis 6.14: “Those who rise early for her will not have to labor (οὐ κοπιάσει), for they will find her sitting at their gates” (trans. M. A. Knibb in NETS). 24 On the connection of wisdom with the Torah, see further Sir 17.11; Bar 3.9–­4.4; Wis 9.9; T. Levi 13; T. Naph. 8.7–­10; Syr. Ps. II (= Ps 154) 12–­14 = 11Q5 18.12–­14; 4Q525 Frag. 2 2.3–­4; 4 Macc 1.17; 4 Ezra 8.12; 13.54–­55; 2 Bar. 38.2, 4; 46.4–­5; 48.24; 51.3–­4; 77.16; and LAB 32.7. 25 Cf., in early Christian texts, Acts 15.10. See further Gal 5.1 and then Did. 6.2. Additional texts are often mentioned, such as Jer 5.5; Pss. Sol. 7.9; and 2 En. 34.1, but a specific connection to the Torah is by no means certain there (on these attestations, see below). In Plato, Ep. 8 354D, the language of the “yoke of slavery” refers to the subordination under the Law as “king.” 26 For an interpretation of the metaphor of the yoke in the sense of the instruction of Jesus or the Torah interpreted by Jesus, see Betz 1967, 23; Strecker 1971, 173–­74; Suggs 1970, 100–­108; Deutsch 1987, 42, 138; Luz 2001, 171–­75 (GV = 1990, 217–­20); Hagner 1993, 324; Loader 1997, 199–­200, 209; Luomanen 1998, 117; Mayer-­Haas 2003, 431–­32; Van de Sandt 2011, 313–­14, 316; and others.



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5.17–­20, serve to unpack, by way of example, the role of Jesus that was introduced in 5.17 as well as the saying about the “better righteousness” in 5.20. For the interpretation of the antitheses, this Matthean reading instruction means fundamentally that the teachings of Jesus, according to the Matthean understanding, do not stand over against the words of the Torah themselves but rather over against the scribes and Pharisees’ understanding of the Torah.27 Thus, 5.20–­48 is part of the polemical dispute with the Pharisaic opponents of the followers of Jesus, which is, putting it diplomatically, not always characterized by fairness.28 If their Torah interpretation is followed, the obedience to the commandments defined in this way does not open up access to the kingdom of heaven. By contrast, whoever adheres to Jesus’ interpretation of the commandments as presented in the countertheses obtains a righteousness that far surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees. Christologically, 5.17–­48 documents the claim that Jesus is not merely a Torah interpreter in concert with others but rather is the one teacher (cf. 23.8, 10), who, on the basis of his exclusive knowledge of the Father (cf. 11.27c), brings to light with his interpretation what God’s proclamation of his will in the Torah and the Prophets signifies according to its full meaning. The fact that for Matthew the concern is not with the surpassing of the commandments of the Torah through Jesus’ instruction but precisely with their fulfillment is fundamental for the understanding of Matt 5. However obvious it may be to the exegete who works historically that—­to take an arbitrary example—­the inclusion of becoming angry in the behavior prohibited by the sixth commandment (5.22) goes far beyond what the prohibition of murder originally had in mind, Matthew is nonetheless of the opinion that the counterthesis of Jesus presents nothing other than what the commandment itself means according to its full or deeper sense. With this, the series of antitheses is, by the way, not a special case in the history of religions but fits into the tendencies of early Jewish Torah paraenesis, which prepared for what is carried out in Jesus’ countertheses also in terms of content.29 The contrast between Jesus’ understanding of the Torah and the authorities’ understanding of the Law, which is introduced in 5.20–­48, manifests 27 For this interpretive approach, see, e.g., Burchard 1998b, 40–­44; Kuhn 1989, 213–­18; and section 1 in chapter 4 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 289–­303). For the opposing position, according to which the theses are to be understood as Torah quotations, see, e.g., Broer 1980, 75–­81; Luz 2007, 229–­30 (GV = 2002a, 330); Eckstein 1997, 396–­403. 28 The concluding framework of the Sermon on the Mount in Matt 7.28–­29 fits here: the crowds recognize that Jesus taught with authority in distinction from their scribes. 29 On this, cf. the attestations in Konradt 2020b, 79–­98 (GV = 2015a, 80–­99). On the first, second, and fourth antitheses, see, in detail, section 2.1 in chapter 5 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 320–­40). On the fifth and sixth antitheses, see Konradt 2016, 348–­80, esp. 350–­58; and Konradt 2018a.

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itself in the continuation of the Gospel in numerous conflict scenes.30 In general, the theme of the Torah in the Gospel of Matthew is firmly embedded in the story of conflict that he recounts. An echo of this also appears in 11.28–­30. It has already often been noted that the talk of those who are burdened (πεφορτισμένοι) stands alongside the accusation addressed to the scribes and the Pharisees in 23.4, namely, that they bind up heavy burdens (φορτία βαρέα) on people.31 Thus, the invitation of Jesus applies to the people,32 who, in Matthew’s judgment, must suffer under the scribes and Pharisees’ interpretation of the Law. At the same time, the address of those who are invited as πεφορτισμένοι constitutes evidence for the interpretation of 11.28–­30 in the light of the adduced sapiential tradition. In support of the connection of 11.28–­30 with the wisdom tradition, one can also point to the fact that in 11.19 Matthew comments on the rejection that the ascetic Baptist and the “glutton and drunkard” Jesus met with equally from “this γενεά” with a saying that places the works of Jesus in relation to Wisdom: “And (yet) Wisdom is justified by her works.”33 Beyond this, reference can be made to the fact that the motif of the exclusive reciprocal knowledge of Father and Son in v. 27 can be read as a variation of sapiential-­theological statements, according to which, on the one hand, God alone knows Wisdom (Job 28.12–­27; Bar 3.32; Sir 1.6–­9) and, on the other hand, Wisdom possesses an exclusive knowledge of the one God (Wis. 8.4; 9.9, 11).34 Matt 11.28–­30—­understood in the sense of an exhortation of Jesus to follow his instruction, analogous to the invitation 30

See Matt 12.1–­8, 9–­14; 15.1–­20; 19.3–­9; 22.34–­40. See further 9.9–­13. Cf. Betz 1967, 22–­23; Strecker 1971, 173; Deutsch 1987, 41, 137; Gnilka 1988, 439; Luz 2001, 172 (GV = 1990, 219); Gundry 1994, 219; Van de Sandt 2011, 329–­30; and others. 32 On the crowds—­who in the preceding context have last been explicitly specified as the audience of the words of Jesus—­as addressee of the invitation in 11.28–­30, cf. Luz 2001, 172 (GV = 1990, 219). 33 The kind of relationship is, however, controversial. While it can be inferred from 11.19 that Jesus’ works (cf. 11.2) are meant to be understood as manifestations of the activity of Wisdom, this applies also to the activity of the Baptist (cf. Gathercole 2006, 204). The interplay between the two expressions “works of Christ” (11.2) and “works of Wisdom” (11.19) can also be read as an (implicit) identification of Christ and Wisdom (cf., e.g., Suggs 1970, 57), but Matthew does not develop a firm wisdom Christology in his Jesus story (on this, see section 1.3 below). Moreover, v. 19 can also be read in the sense of an analogy in which it is presupposed that Wisdom—­like John and Jesus according to 11.16–­19—­also met with rejection. Just as Wisdom was rejected among human beings but justified by her works, so John and Jesus are also rejected, and yet justified by their works (cf. Johnson 1974, 57–­58; and as an option also in Pregeant 1996, 214). 34 Cf. for many Christ 1970, 88–­89, 93–­96. For criticism of wisdom as the tradition background of Matt 11.27, see, e.g., Laansma 1997, 175–­77; Nolland 2005, 472. Davies/ Allison 1991, 272–­73, 283–­87 (cf. Allison 1988, 478–­83), regard the Moses tradition as the primary tradition background, but the Son motif, which is central in Matt 11.27, is lacking in this background (for criticism, cf., again, Laansma 1997, 177–­79). 31



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of Wisdom in early Jewish texts—­would fit well with that. If it is interpreted in this way, then with respect to the constitutive role of Christology in the Matthean ethic, 11.28–­30 would underpin the importance of the Torah interpretation of Jesus that was just sketched and would at the same time give Jesus’ interpretation a sapiential coloring alongside its prophetic accentuation.35 Jesus’ talk of “my yoke” in v. 29, which is thus far without analogy in the early Jewish context, could be read as an echo of the authoritative “but I say to you” of the antitheses.36 The arguments for this interpretation of Matt 11.28–­30 are undoubtedly substantial. It can be embedded in the tradition history, it fits harmoniously into the picture of Matthean ethics established in the preceding context in the form of a Torah-­related instruction of Jesus, and it is intratextually reinforced by the reference to Wisdom in 11.19 and by the connection to 23.4. Nevertheless, I think that the meaning of the text is not exhaustively grasped with this interpretation.37 Instead, both the Matthean context and the tradition-­historical findings point to a more comprehensive horizon of meaning.38 This is what we will take up in the next step of our argument. 1.2 Evidence for the Royal Messiahship of Jesus as the Horizon of Meaning of Matt 11.28–­30 Reference must be made first to the fact that in the literature of the Old Testament and early Judaism, the image of the “yoke” occurs in the overwhelming number of attestations with a political orientation as a metaphor 35 The prophetic dimension of the Matthean understanding of the Torah is programmatically put forward in the expression “the Law and the Prophets” (5.17; 7.12; 22.40) and concretely realized above all through the double quotation of Hos 6.6 as a leading statement on the understanding of the proclamation of God’s will in the scriptures in Matt 9.13; 12.7. Reference must also be made, for example, to the echo of Mic 6.8 in Matt 23.23. 36 Thus Van de Sandt 2011, 332. See also Laansma 1997, 195. Suggs 1970, 96 views the talk of “my yoke” as a confirmation of his thesis that Jesus is identified with Wisdom. For while the teacher of wisdom in Sir 51.26 calls his readers to place their neck under the yoke of Wisdom (Hebrew text ‫ ;בעלה‬LXX: ὑπὸ ζυγόν), Jesus speaks precisely of his yoke. Cf. also Davies/Allison 1991, 289: Jesus “is . . . playing not only the part of Wisdom . . . but also the part of Torah; or, rather, he is Wisdom, he is Torah.” 37 Criticism of the thesis that wisdom texts—­ such as especially Sir 51.13–­30—­possess a leading function for the interpretation of Matt 11.28–­30 or that such texts can sufficiently illuminate the tradition-­historical context of Matt 11.28–­30 is also expressed by Verseput 1986, 145; Stanton 1992b; Moss 2008, 67–­80; Laansma 1997, 195–­206; and Charette 1992, who instead emphasizes as the tradition in the background prophetic texts in which Israel is promised liberation from the yoke associated with foreign rule and the provision of rest. 38 It is possible that in 11.28–­30 Matthew has taken up and reworked a piece of tradition for which the sapiential context holds the interpretive key. In that case, however, Matthew would have introduced new accents with his reworking, as we shall demonstrate in what follows.

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of rulership,39 usually being used negatively in the sense of (servitude under) foreign rule.40 If one includes the rest of Greco-­Roman antiquity, the findings are no different.41 Especially instructive is 2 Chr 10, where the assembly of the Northern Kingdom points Rehoboam, who had just ascended to the throne, to the heavy “yoke”42 that his father Solomon had placed on them, and Rehoboam is asked to lighten it. In Josephus’ paraphrase of the scene, the representatives of the northern kingdom ask that Rehoboam be milder (χρηστότερον) than his father, since the yoke (ζυγόν) placed upon them by Solomon was heavy (Josephus, Ant. 8.213). Here, we encounter the exact same connection that is also present in Matt 11.30,43 where Jesus identifies 39 On 2 Chr 10.4–­14 and the reception of the passage in Josephus and on Pss. Sol. 17.30, see what follows. With respect to God, see Zeph 3.9 (“that they [the nations] might serve him [the Lord] under one yoke [τοῦ δουλεύειν αὐτῷ ὑπὸ ζυγὸν ἕνα]”) and Pss. Sol. 7.9 (“and we are under your yoke forever [καὶ ἡμεῖς ὑπὸ ζυγόν σου τὸν αἰῶνα]”), where the context—­the petition for merciful preservation from being delivered over to pagan foreign rule—­supports the understanding that subordination under the rule of God is in view and the yoke metaphor is by no means, as is sometimes postulated (see, e.g., Winninge 1995, 116–­17), to be restricted to the Law. This probably also applies to 2 En. 34.1: Against the view that the two parts of the accusation against the human beings “that they reject my commandments and do not carry the yoke that I placed upon them” should be understood as identical in content, it can be objected that the yoke metaphor is taken up in what follows and connected with the theme of the worship of the one God. While it must be conceded that the worship of the one God is obviously also part of the Torah, the accent shifts here, and the aspect of the rejection (of the rule) of the one God is more strongly stressed. Jer 2.20LXX should probably also be classified here. While the taking up of the motif in Jer 5.5 indicates that the accent already lies on the legal stipulations of God, the more comprehensive sense of the subordination under God and his rule also cannot be excluded for Jer 5.5. For the use of “yoke” as a metaphor of rule, cf. J. B. Bauer 1961, 100–­103. 40 See Lev 26.13; 1 Macc 8.18, 31; 13.41; Isa 9.3; 10.27; 14.5, 25; 47.6; Jer 34.8, LXX 11 (= 27.8, 11MT); 35.2, 4, 11, 14LXX (= 28.2, 4, 11, 14MT); 37.8LXX (= 30.8MT); Ezek 34.27; Sib. Or. 3.391, 448, 508, 537, 567; 4.104; Josephus, J.W. 5.365; 7.87. See also Gen 27.40 (on this, cf. Jub 26.34); Ps 2.3LXX; Gk En. 103.11. 41 For the Roman context in particular, reference may be made to the custom of the passum sub iugum as a symbol for the subjection of the conquered (see, for example, with regard to the “Caudine Yoke,” Livy, Ab urbe condita 9.4–­6; Appian, Hist. rom. 3.4.2–­6. See further, e.g., Dionysius of Halicarnassus 10.20.7; 10.24.6, 8; 16.1.4). See also, e.g., Plato, Leg. 770E; Herodotus, Hist. 7.8; Polybius, Hist. 4.82.2. The fact that the metaphor can also describe power relations and relations of dependence in the daily life of the individual can be documented, by way of example, through Theognidea 1.1023–­24: “I will never bow my neck under the heavy yoke of my enemies.” For the yoke of the slave, see, e.g., Aeschylus, Agamemnon 1226; Euripides, Tro. 678; as well as Sir 30.35 (33.27); 1 Tim 6.1 (cf. Gal 5.1). 42 2 Chr 10.4, 9, 10, 11, 14 (the parallel narrative in 1 Kgs 12, by contrast, speaks not of the ζυγός but of the κλοιός; in both cases the Hebrew text has ‫)על‬. For “making the yoke heavy” or the “heavy yoke,” see also Isa 47.6 (ἐβάρυνας τὸν ζυγὸν σφόδρα); 1 Macc 8.31 (ἐβάρυνας τὸν ζυγόν σου); and with regard to the fate of humans, Sir 40.1 (ἀσχολία μεγάλη ἔκτισται παντὶ ἀνθρώπῳ καὶ ζυγὸς βαρὺς ἐπὶ υἱοὺς Αδαμ). For the light yoke, see Pindar, Pyth. 2.93; Lucian, Merc. cond. 13. 43 Occasionally, reference has been made in passing to the points of contact with Josephus, Ant. 8.213 (see, e.g., Davies/Allison 1991, 291n246; Laansma 1997, 245n169). By contrast, Mitchell 2016, 334 regards Josephus, Ant. 8.213 as “an unconvincing parallel.”



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his yoke precisely as χρηστός.44 Pss. Sol. 17.30, where the yoke metaphor is related to the reign of the Davidic messiah, also merits attention. Along the line of the political-­military colors of the expectation of the messiah in Pss. Sol. 17, the concern is concretely with the servitude of the nations under the yoke of the messiah (καὶ ἕξει λαοὺς ἐθνῶν δουλεύειν αὐτῷ ὑπὸ τὸν ζυγὸν αὐτοῦ). Matt 11.29–­30 forms a contrasting pair to this. In correspondence to Matthew’s own formulation of the Davidic messiahship of Jesus (see further below), his yoke is gentle. This interpretation, which is suggested by the yoke metaphor, is corroborated, second, when the adjective χρηστός itself is taken into consideration. In the LXX and early Jewish literature, χρηστός is common as a predicate of God,45 but in Jewish antiquity and in the rest of the ancient Hellenistic world, it is also widespread as a positive trait of rulers, as is, analogous to this, χρηστότης. While it must be conceded here that in some attestations χρηστός or χρηστότης simply means “good, excellent, upright” or “goodness, excellence, uprightness,”46 in other attestations it is more likely or clear 44

In the rabbinic literature, alongside the “yoke of the Torah” in the positive sense, there is talk of the “yoke of heaven” or of the “yoke of the rule of heaven” (e.g., m. Ber. 2.2; b. Sanh. 111b; b. Sota 47b; t. Sota 14.4; Sifre Lev 25.38; Sifre Deut. § 323 on 32.29 v.l.) in the sense of “the yoke of God.” In each case, the yoke metaphor expresses the aspect of the complete subordination under the Torah or God, with the subordination under God’s reign forming the basis for the required obedience to the Torah. On this, cf.—­with attestations for the use of the yoke metaphor in this context—­Büchler 1967, 36–­118, who comes to the conclusion that “His yoke does not mean the laws, but God’s Mastery over every Israelite, and the acceptance of the yoke or the Kingship is manifested especially by his ready obedience to unintelligible laws as God’s royal decrees” (118). In correspondence to the latter, the concern in Matt 11.29 is with consistently submitting to Jesus as the messianic king (cf. below). 45 Jer 40.11LXX; Nah 1.7; Pss 24.7–­8LXX; 33.9LXX (51.11LXX; 68.17LXX); 85.5LXX; 99.5LXX; 105.1LXX; 106.1LXX; (108.21LXX); 118.68LXX; 135.1LXX; 144.9LXX; Dan 3.89LXX; 2 Macc 1.24; Wis 15.1; Pss. Sol. 2.36; 5.2, 12(–­15); 10.2, 7; Sib. Or. 1.159; Philo, Abr. 203; Det. 46, 146; Mut. 253. Cf., among early Christian writings, Luke 6.35; Rom 2.4; 1 Pet 2.3 (quoting Ps 33.9LXX); 1 Clem. 60.1; Diogn. 8.8. See further the talk of God’s χρηστότητης, for example, in Pss 24.7LXX; 30.20LXX; 67.11LXX; 118.68LXX; 144.7LXX; 3 Ezra 5.58; Pr. Man. 7.11; Pss. Sol. 5.14, 15, 18; 8.28; 9.7; 18.1; Philo, Praem. 166; Josephus, Ant. 11.144; 20.90; and, in early Christian texts, Rom 2.4; 11.22; Eph 2.7; Tit 3.4; 1 Clem. 9.1; 2 Clem. 19.1; Odes Sol. 11.15. Special mention should be made of the fact that there is talk on multiple occasions of God being χρηστός or of his χρηστότης in connection with (the) forgiveness (of sins); see, e.g., Pss 24.7–­8LXX; 85.5 LXX; Wis 15.1–­2; Pr. Man. 7.11; Pss. Sol. 9.7; Philo, Praem. 166; Josephus, Ant. 11.144; see also Gk. Apoc. Ezra 2.21. 46 Thus, for example, in the anonymously handed down trip around the world where in the introductory dedication to King Nicomedes (probably Nicomedes III Epiphanes or Nicomedes II Eugertes; see Korenjak 2003, 12), Nicomedes is addressed with the words διότι τῶν νῦν βασιλέων μόνος βασιλικὴν χρηστότητα προσφέρεις (Pseudo-­ Scymnus, Ad Nicomedem regem 50–­51). In Dio Chrysostom’s discourses on kingship (Or. 1–­4), we find the expression ὁ χρηστὸς βασιλεύς in the sense of “the good/upright king” often as an overarching classificatory element (Or. 1.11: τὰ τε ἤθη καὶ τὴν

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that the meaning is “mild, generous.”47 By contrast, χρηστός is not common as a characterization of the Law.48 Jesus’ exhortation to take his yoke upon them and the justification that this yoke is χρηστός can in this light be best διάθεσιν τοῦ χρηστοῦ βασιλέως; 1.33; 3.9, 25; cf. also 39.4; and Herodas, Mimiamboi 1.30). In early Jewish writings, reference may be made to the historian Eupolemus (see the fragments in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.32.1; 9.34.1), where David and Solomon are designated as χρηστός in letters of allied rulers to Solomon (see further Euripides, Orest. 773; Isocrates, Or. 8.122; Aristophanes, Eccl. 176–­178; Plato, Leg. 627E; Aeschines, Ctes. 78; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. rom. 4.11.3; 10.54.7; 10.57.4; Dio Chrysostom, Or. 32.26; 50.7; 73.7; Plutarch, Dion 47.6; Phoc. 14.1; 19.2; Alex. 30.3; 59.2; Demetr. 50.1; Publ. 16.1; Comp. Sol. Publ. 2.2; Mor. 177D; Mor. 823A; Pseudo-­ Plutarch, Mor. 850A; Let. Aris. 290). 47 This is what it says in the “necrologue” on Ptolemaeus VI Philometor in Polybius, Hist. 39.7.3–­4: πρᾷος μὲν γὰρ ἦν καὶ χρηστός, εἰ καί τις ἄλλος τῶν προγεγονότων βασιλέων (for the use of χρηστός in connection with πρᾷος, which is especially relevant with respect to Matt 11.29–­30, see also Polybius, Hist. 9.23.3; Dio Chysostom, Or. 12.77; Plutarch, Brut. 22.4; see further Philo, Det. 146; Plutarch, Ant. 79.2). Plutarch, Pomp. 75.2 attributes to Caesar the attribute of being benevolent and mild/kind (εὐγνώμονα γὰρ εἶναι Καίσαρα καὶ χρηστόν). Among early Jewish texts, reference may be made, e.g., to 1 Macc 6.11, where the words ὅτι χρηστὸς καὶ ἀγαπώμενος ἤμην ἐν τῇ ἐξουσίᾳ μου are placed in the mouth of Antiochus IV. See further Philo, Mos. 1.249 (Moses’ χρηστότης is varied here in the course of the work to φιλανθρωπία; on this, cf. Legat. 73; Josephus, Ant. 7.184; 10.164); Somn. 2.294 (τὸ χρηστὸν καὶ ἥμερον τοῦ κρατοῦντος); Legat. 67; Josephus, Ant. 2.140, 157, 159 (Joseph toward his brothers); 6.294; 7.43, 184, 391 (σώφρων ἐπιεκὴς χρηστὸς πρὸς τοὺς ἐν συμφοραῖς ὑπάρχοντας, δίκαιος φιλάνθρωπος, ἃ μόνοις ἐξαίρετα τοῖς βασιλεῦσιν εἶναι προσῆκε); 9.260; 10.100, 120, 164; 11.131, 183; 12.21; 13.114; 16.25; 19.330; Vita 4.23; and then Diodorus Siculus, Bib. Hist. 1.65.2; 17.54.6; 19.55.5; 34/35.3.1; Musonius, Frag. 8 (Hense 2010, 39.12). We can also place here more distant attestations in which friendly/mild words are ascribed to rulers, e.g., Jer 52.32LXX; Philo, Ios. 198 (on Joseph toward his brothers); Josephus, Ant. 12.398; Plutarch, Pyrrh. 11.2. χρηστός can then also characterize God specifically in his role as king. Thus, for example, in 2 Macc 1.24 in the prayer of the priests in the rededication of the temple under Nehemiah, God is invoked, among other things, as ὁ μόνος βασιλεὺς καὶ χρηστός. 48 Reference can, however, be made to Philo, Virt. 97, where the regulations of the law on the seventh year are designated as χρηστὰ καὶ φιλάνθρωπα (on this, cf. Philo, Spec. 2.104), as well as to the subsequent reference in Virt. 101 to the fact that there are yet other kind and philanthropic (χρηστὰ καὶ φιλάνθρωπα) regulations in the Torah. Further, one can point to Philo’s characterization of the laws that apply in relation to enemies as χρηστά (Virt. 109) and, finally, to the talk of the mild and kind regulation (ἥμερον καὶ χρηστὴν πρόσταξιν) on the threshing ox in Virt. 146 (cf. also Virt. 160 on Moses as lawgiver). Ps 118.39LXX (τὰ γὰρ κρίματά σου χρηστά) and Pss. Sol. 8.32 (χρηστὰ τὰ κρίματά σου ἐφ’ ἡμας), however, do not present exceptions, for in both cases what is meant by κρίματα is God’s judgments (cf. Pss. Sol. 5.1–­2). In Ps 118.68LXX (χρηστὸς εἶ σύ κύριε καὶ ἐν τῇ χρηστότητί σου δίδαξόν με τὰ δικαιώματά σου), the Law itself is not designated as χρηστός, but the χρηστότης of God does appear as the basis for the petition of the one praying that God may teach him his just regulations. In the subdivision of the resolutions of the state into τὰ χρηστὰ δόγματα and τὰ πονηρά in Plato’s Minos (314E), χρηστός means ‘good’ and not specifically ‘mild, kind.’ This is also the case for Demosthenes, Or. 20.49 (νόμοι [καὶ ἄνδρες] χρηστοί in contrast to οἱ πονηροὶ νόμοι).



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understood to mean that he exhorts the people to submit themselves to his reign49 because he conducts his rule with mildness. If the macro-­context is taken into view, then the plausibility of this interpretation is substantially reinforced. Thus, it may be adduced, third, that Matthew emphatically emphasizes the royal messiahship of Jesus.50 This is already signaled with the genealogy in 1.2–­17, which leads through the line of the kings of Judah, is continued in the magi pericope with the question about the king of the Jews (2.2) and the specification of his role as “ruler who will shepherd God’s people Israel,” which occurs in 2.6 by way of the mixed citation from Mic 5.1 and 2 Sam 5.2, and coalesces in titular form in the talk of Jesus as Son of David, which Matthew has composed into a main voice in his christological score.51 This voice, however, does not express the fanfare of political-­militaristic symphonies of liberation52 but rather the softer tones of the merciful turning to human beings.53 As is well known, Matthew has emphatically connected the motif of Jesus’ Davidic sonship with Jesus’ healing activity (9.27–­31; 12.22–­24; 20.29–­34; 21.15–­16),54 to which he has given a central place in his portrayal of Jesus in general.55 49 A similar position is taken by Verseput 1986, 147: “Jesus’ call to ‘take my yoke upon you’ becomes a plea for submission to his authority, and servitude under his sovereign rule.” Cf., further, Bacchiocchi 1984, 301–­3; Moss 2008, 77–­78; and Charette 1992, 295: “Jesus, who stands in the position of the messianic figure in whom the restoration of the nation is realized, is offering the people the opportunity to return again to the service of Yahweh—­his yoke is none other than Yahweh’s yoke.” Matt 11.29 is interpreted in the sense of “yoke of discipleship” by Stanton 1992b, 375; Laansma 1997, 244. In addition, Laansma also sees the possible connection to the yoke of a king (244–­45). 50 Cf. Verseput 1995; D. R. Bauer 1995. 51 On the significance of the presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah in Matthew, see Novakovic 2003; Konradt 2014b, 18–­49 (GV = 2007, 17–­52). See also chapter 2 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 146–­70). 52 See Pss. Sol. 17; 1QSb 5.24–­29; 1QM 5.1–­2; 4Q161 Frag. 8–­10 18–­22; 4Q285 Frag. 5 3–­4; Frag. 6+4; see also CD 7.19–­21; 4Q376 Frag. 1 3.1–­3; as well as 4 Ezra 12.31–­34 (cf. 13.25–­38, 49). For Pss. Sol. 17 the political-­military aspect of the expectation has sometimes been called into question (see, e.g., Laato 1997, 281–­82), but wrongly (see, e.g., Schreiber 2000, 170–­72). On ruling and royal conceptions of anointed ones in Qumran, see Zimmermann 1998, 46–­229. 53 On Jesus’ compassion and mercy, see chapter 6 in the present volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 421–­29). 54 Cf. Duling 1978; Novakovic 2003, passim; Chae 2006, 279–­374. See also section 3 of chapter 2 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 161–­68). 55 Matthew already stresses in the introductory summary in 4.23 that Jesus “healed every sickness and every weakness” (cf. 9.35 and with a view to the disciples 10.1). Even before Jesus’ teaching is exemplarily unfolded in the Sermon on the Mount (5–­7), his healing activity is additionally emphasized in 4.24. Furthermore, mass healings precede both of the feeding stories in Matthew (14.14; 15.30); to this end, Matthew, in 14.14, has replaced a Markan note about the teaching of Jesus (Mark 6.34) with a healing summary. This procedure is repeated in Matt 19.2 par. Mark 10.1. And Matthew has added a note about healings in the temple in 21.14 (on the redactional emphasis on healings as an expression of Jesus’

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Matthew’s presentation of the mercy of Jesus is, however, more comprehensively designed, as is shown, on the one hand, by the anchoring of the sending out of the disciples in Jesus’ compassion for the crowds in 9.36 and, on the other hand, by Jesus’ mercy upon the hungry crowds in 15.32. And it also especially includes his turning to sinners (9.2–­13).56 It fits with this that the soteriological plight of the people is the focus of the talk of the “lost sheep (τὰ πρόβατα τὰ ἀπολωλότα)” (10.6; 15.24), to whom the mission of Jesus as the Davidic messianic shepherd (2.6) is directed (15.24).57 Thus, when Jesus calls for his hearers to take his yoke upon them in 11.29, because he is meek, this corresponds precisely with the picture that Matthew has painted of the kind of rule that is exercised by the messianic king Jesus. The yoke of the Davidic messiah is, in fact, mild, for his rule consists not, as is the case with the rulers of the nations, in oppressing them with violence (cf. 20.25–­26) but in the merciful turning to those “who are afflicted and languishing like sheep without a shepherd” (9.36). Fourth, while the interpretation of the yoke metaphor in the sense of the royal rule of Jesus fits harmoniously into the overall findings of Matthean Christology, as shown above, the christological horizon of the immediate context in Matt 11–­12 also supports this interpretation. After the prologue (1.1–­4.16), Matthew has exemplarily presented Jesus’ activity in a first narrative block (4.17–­11.1), which is framed by the calling and sending out of the disciples (4.18–­22; 9.36–­11.1).58 With the Baptist’s question in 11.2–­6, Matthew places the thematization of the reaction to Jesus’ activity in the foreground, which he differentiates into the following of the disciples, the sharply rejecting attitude of the authorities, and the tentative searching movements of the interested crowds who are positively affected by Jesus.59 By way of introduction and with a backward look at the preceding narrative block, Matthew, in 11.2, speaks expressis verbis of the “works of the messiah” (τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ), which the Baptist turning to the crowds, cf. Cousland 2002, 108–­17). As a conspicuous element of Matthew’s presentation of Jesus, it may be added that Matthew repeatedly has Jesus heal not merely many but all the people who are brought to him (see Matt 8.16 [diff. Mark 1.34]; Matt 12.15 [diff. Mark 3.10]; as well as the replacement of Mark 7.31–­37 with Matt 15.29–­31). 56 Through the quotation of Hos 6.6 in Matt 9.13, the reception of sinners is explicitly presented as an act of mercy (ἔλεος). In this context, cf. further σπλαγχνισθείς in Matt 18.27. 57 Matt 18.12–­14 reinforces this: a sheep that has gone astray should not get lost again. See further the use of the verb ἀπόλλυμι in Matt 10.28, 39; 16.25. See also section 2 of chapter 2 in this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 151–­60). 58 On the composition in Matt 4.17–­11.1, cf. Konradt 2020b, 58, 63–­64, 127–­29, 153–­54 (GV = 2015a, 59, 64–­65, 131–­32, 157–­58). 59 On the Matthean distinction between the authorities and the crowds, cf. Cousland 2002, passim; and Konradt 2014b, 89–­139 (GV = 2007, 95–­150). See now also Konradt 2020c.



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had heard about in prison. In light of the preceding context, the genitive attribute τοῦ Χριστοῦ clearly must be related to Jesus’ role as Davidic-­ royal messiah.60 Jesus’ answer to the disciples of the Baptist suggests that they should be able to form a judgment on the basis of what they hear and see. With his subsequent teaching of the crowds about John the Baptist, Jesus indirectly says something about himself. The one for whom John prepared the way is here. This must be grasped by the people. They should act differently from the authorities who are targeted in the parable of the playing children (11.16–­19).61 And they must also act differently from the three Galilean cities apostrophized in the woes, who remained indifferent in the face of Jesus’ “deeds of power” insofar as they did not allow themselves to be led to the required repentance by them (11.20–­24). The praise that follows in vv. 25–­26 places the authorities’ attitude of rejection in a theological framework of interpretation and at the same time extends the christological line of meaning inaugurated in v. 2. That which God hid from the wise and understanding62 but revealed to the simple consists, according to the context, in the fact that the works of Jesus are the works of the messiah (v. 2).63 Last but not least, this christological line of meaning is reinforced by the recourse to the Son of God motif in v. 27. After all, in the Matthean Christology, the Son of God and the Son of David titles form the two intimately connected aspects with which the evangelist unfolds the messiahship of Jesus.64 It follows from this finding that the immediately preceding context of the invitation in 11.28 also suggests that the messiahship of Jesus defined by the Davidic and divine sonship forms its christological horizon.65 Against the background of the Baptist’s question, the crowds, from v. 7 onward, are called to recognize the historical hour that has sounded with the appearance of the Baptist and enter into the discipleship of the one for whom the Baptist has prepared the way (11.10), i.e., to join the following of the messiah of Israel. 60

Cf. Luz 2001, 132 (GV = 1990, 167); Verseput 1987, 535; Konradt 2014b, 53 (GV = 2007, 56). 61 For the interpretation of the talk of “this γενεά” in 11.16–­19 and 12.38–­45; 16.1–­4; 23.34–­36 as referring to the authorities, see the detailed justification in Konradt 2014b, 210–­39 (GV = 2007, 226–­57). 62 On the reference of the expression to the authorities or the religious elite, cf., e.g., Luz 2001, 162–­63 (GV = 1990, 205–­6); Van de Sandt 2011, 326. 63 The pronouns in v. 25 (ταῦτα/αὐτά) refer back to τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ, to which reference was already made in v. 19 with the talk of the works of Wisdom as well as in vv. 20, 21, 23 (αἱ δυνάμεις). Matt 13.11 formulates this same subject matter when it says that it has been given to the disciples to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. On the interpretation of ταῦτα/αὐτά in v. 25, cf. Davies/Allison 1991, 277. 64 On this, see the overview in Konradt 2020b, 5–­11 (GV = 2015a, 5–­11); 2020a, 113–­22. 65 Cf. Laansma 1997, 216–­18, 222.

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To this we can add the fact that this christological horizon also remains present in Matt 12. Here, reference can be made, first, to the explicit appearance of the Son of David title in 12.22–­24—­here the crowds actually begin to ask whether Jesus could be the Son of David—­and to the quotation from Isa 42.1–­4 inserted into 12.18–­21, which takes up again the main christological motif of divine sonship with the talk of Jesus as the παῖς of God and reinforces the Matthean picture of Jesus as the meek king who mercifully turns to his people with the statements in 12.19–­20.66 Second, the Sabbath pericopes in 12.1–­14 must be included here. It has sometimes been noted that here there is an associative, if not also material connection to the promise of rest in 11.28, 29, because the Sabbath is the day of rest.67 Beyond this, with regard to the Davidic coloring, it must also be noted that in the second Sabbath pericope (12.9–­14), Jesus’ therapeutic ministry is again thematized, and in the first Sabbath pericope (12.1–­8), the behavior of David himself is invoked as an example. Here, it must be noted that the “Matthean David” not only eats the bread of the presence himself but eats it together with his equally hungry companions (12.3–­4). Thus, King David looks after not only himself but also his own people—­and thereby sovereignly transcends the regulations about the bread of the presence. Analogously to this, Jesus, in his sovereign freedom, subordinates the prohibition of work on the Sabbath in favor of his hungry disciples. When Jesus, in this context, compactly expresses his authority by stating that he is κύριος τοῦ σαββάτου (v. 8), then this designation suggests more than that Jesus possesses teaching authority with regard to the adequate observance of the Sabbath commandments; he is “Lord of the Sabbath” as the royal messiah who gives his people rest. Fifth, a concrete intertextual connection can be invoked in support of the interpretation of 11.28–­30 pursued here, for Jesus’ self-­characterization as meek (πραΰς) in 11.2968 is given explicitly royal color by the quotation from Zech 9.9, which Matthew inserts into the narrative of Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem in 21.1–­17, where the attribute that characterizes the king in Zechariah is concentrated specifically on meekness through 66 On the correspondence between the self-­presentation of Jesus as “meek” in 11.29 and the servant song of Isa 42.1–­4 quoted in 12.18–­21, cf. Stanton 1992b, 371–­72; Laansma 1997, 210–­11. 67 Cf. Mayer-­Haas 2003, 438–­39; Van de Sandt 2011, 319–­22. On the Sabbath as day of ἀνάπαυσις, see Exod 16.23; 23.12; 31.15; 35.2; Lev 23.3 and elsewhere. 68 According to Num 12.3, Moses is πραΰς. More precisely, he is πραῢς σφόδρα παρὰ πάντας τοὺς ἀνθρώπους τοὺς ὄντας ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς (cf. Philo, Mos. 2.279). In Jos. Asen. 8.8, πραΰς is one of the descriptions of Joseph.



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the shortening of this quotation:69 “Say to the daughter of Zion70: Behold, your king is coming to you, meek (πραΰς) and riding on a donkey [ . . . ]” (Matt 21.5).71 The prophetic announcement is realized in the continuation of the narrative in Matt 21 with the acclamation of Jesus as Son of David by the crowds who enter Jerusalem with him (21.9). In the scene in 21.14–­16, which is configured by Matthew following the temple cleansing (21.12–­13), the acclamation of Jesus as Son of David is then heard again, after Jesus has healed the blind and the lame who are brought to him in the temple.72 Here Matthew thus connects exactly the aforementioned main features of his presentation of Jesus as the Davidic messiah directly with his characterization as meek or gentle. Finally, we can include the promise of rest as a sixth argument. Alongside its reference to the Sabbath,73 in the Old Testament and early Judaism, the motif is widely attested, far beyond the sapiential stream of tradition (Sir 6.28; 51.27), in various thematic contexts, as a way of expressing well-­being or positive life conditions.74 Its connection with the talk of toil (κοπιᾶν/κόπος; cf. Sir 6.19; 51.27) also appears elsewhere.75 For Matt 69 In Matthew the words δίκαιος καὶ σῴζων αὐτός are lacking (MT: ‫)צדיק ונושע הוא‬. This omission “certainly does not mean that Matthew is reserved about these attributes, but points positively to the fact that for Matthew, gentleness is an important characteristic of the Messiah Jesus” (Konradt 2020b, 310 [GV = 2015a, 322]; cf. Barth 1975, 121–­22). 70 Matthew has replaced the beginning of Zech 9.9 (χαῖρε σφόδρα, θύγατερ Σιων· κήρυσσε, θύγατερ Ιερουσαλημ) with words from Isa 62.11 (εἴπατε τῇ θυγατρὶ Σιων) in order to adapt the quotation to its context, for in Matt 21.9–­11 the coming of the king is announced to Jerusalem by the crowds. Moreover, the opening in Zech 9.9 would not have fit in the Matthean context, for the coming of the messianic king Jesus will not be a cause for joy for Jerusalem. 71 On this, cf. Stanton 1992b, 371; Laansma 1997, 218–­20; Moss 2008, 61–­80. Jesus’ self-­predication as “meek and humble of heart” does not find a counterpart in Sir 51.13–­30. Verseput 1986, 145, and Stanton 1992b, 369, rightly evaluate this to mean that Matt 11.28–­30 cannot be sufficiently explained on the basis of Sir 51 alone. 72 In Matt 21.16 Jesus himself interprets the cry of the children through the quotation of Ps 8.3: “Out of the mouth of infants (νηπίων) and nurslings, you have prepared praise (for yourself).” In addition to 21.16, νήπιοι is spoken of only in 11.25, which underscores the connection between 11.25–­30 and 21.1–­17. 73 On this, see above. 74 For an analysis of the findings, see esp. Laansma 1997, 17–­153. See further Talbot 2012. 75 See, e.g., the lament in Lam 5.5LXX: “We were pursued upon our neck; we grew weary; we were given no rest (ἐκοπιάσαμεν οὐκ ἀνεπαύθημεν)” (trans. P. J. Gentry, NETS). Apoc. Mos. 24.2–­3 (text according to Dochhorn 2005, 378–­79) regards it as the lot of Adamic humanity after the fall to toil much (κοπιάσεις πολλά, 24.3) but find no rest (ἔσῃ δὲ ἐν καμάτοις πολυτρόποις· κάμῃ καὶ μὴ ἀναπαύσῃ, 24.2). In Rev 14.13 those who die in the Lord are called blessed, for they should now rest from their labors (ἵνα ἀναπαήσονται ἐκ τῶν κόπων αὐτῶν). See further Jer 51.33LXX; Sir 31.3–­4; Josephus, Ant. 5.315. With 1 En. 103.11 (Gk), κοπιᾶν and ζυγός also come together elsewhere.

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11.28–­29 reference may be made especially to the appearance of the motif of rest in Ezek 34.15LXX,76 for it has long been noted that Ezek 34—­with its reproach of the old shepherds (vv. 2–­10), the promise of God to turn again toward his scattered flock (vv. 11–­22), and the transfer of this task to God’s servant David as shepherd (v. 23)—­has fundamental importance for the Matthean Son of David Christology.77 As God promises to feed his sheep and let them rest in Ezek 34.15 (καὶ ἐγὼ ἀναπαύσω αὐτά),78 so Jesus’ promise of rest can best be understood in an analogous sense. For Matthew, Jesus is the Davidic shepherd announced in Ezek 34.23, through whose activity God fulfills his promise to give rest “to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matt 10.6; 15.24).79 Just as the concern in that regard is with the present and future salvation that is found with the messiah Jesus,80 so there is also not a tension-­filled—­let alone paradoxical—­relationship between the talk of the gentle yoke and of rest.81 This is supported by the fact that the varying repetition of the promise of rest from Matt 11.28 in v. 29d probably alludes to Jer 6.16,82 where “rest” appears as a consequence of walking in the proven way of the people of God with their God. For Matthew this is now the way of 76 Cf. Talbot 2012, 63–­64. On Allison’s thesis of a connection to Exod 33.14, see section 1.1 above. 77 On this, see Heil 1993; Baxter 2006, 43–­45; Chae 2006, 205–­19. As a notable detail, it merits mention in this context that the localization of the ninety-­nine sheep left behind ἐπὶ τὰ ὄρη in Matt 18.12 (Luke 15.4 localizes the sheep, probably on the basis of Q, ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ!) should probably be read as an allusion to Ezek 34.13 (see just Luz 2005c, 443, with n56 [GV = 1997, 32, with n56]), i.e., to the immediate context of 34.15 (on the Matthean talk of the sheep that goes astray [Matt 18.12–­13], cf. further Ezek 34.4, 16), which underscores the fact that Matthew was familiar with this textual passage. 78 On the promise of rest as a turning point after times of hardship and tribulation (such as the time of the exile), see further Isa 11.10; 14.3; 25.10LXX; 32.17–­18; negatively in Lam 5.5. With regard to God’s fundamental saving action toward Israel in the form (of the liberation out of Egypt and) of guiding them into the land (as well as the preservation from enemies), see, e.g., Deut 3.20; 12.9–­10; 25.19; Josh 1.13, 15; 21.44; 22.4; 23.1; Isa 63.14MT; cf. also Ps 95.11. In general, concerning rest (from enemies, etc.) that God gives to Israel or to his king, see, e.g., Deut 5.33LXX (as promised consequence of obedience to the commandments); 2 Sam 7.11; 1 Kgs 5.18; 8.56; 1 Chr 22.9, 18; 23.25; 2 Chr 14.5–­6; 15.15; 20.30; 32.22LXX; Sir 47.13; cf. also Est 9.16–­17, 22. 79 Additionally, reference may be made to the fact that the yoke metaphor also appears in Ezek 34. God will shatter their yoke and rescue them out of the hand of those to whom they are enslaved (v. 27). 80 A similar position is taken by Laansma 1997, 246–­48; and Bacchiocchi 1984, 296–­303. On “rest” as a motif of eschatological salvation, cf., e.g., T. Dan 5.12; 4 Ezra 7.36, 38, 91, 95; 8.52; 2 Bar. 73.1(–­7); Gk. Apoc. Ezra 1.12; Rev 14.13; 2 Clem 5.5; 6.7. In the framework of individual eschatology, see e.g., Jos. Asen. 8.9; 15.7; 22.13. 81 Cf. J. B. Bauer 1961, 102–­3. 82 On this, see Menken 2004, 267: “an unmarked quotation from Jer 6,16”; see further, e.g., Knowles 1993, 214–­17; Lybæk 2002, 155–­57. On the form of the quotation, which deviates from the LXX, see Menken 2004, 267–­69.



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discipleship, to which the crowds are called by their messiah. In short, the promise of rest does not point only to the relief that clarity about life conduct and incorporation into a community of likeminded persons may mediate;83 instead, against the background of Old Testament and early Jewish tradition, for Matthew the talk of “rest” functions as a cipher for messianic salvation.84 1.3 Interim Conclusion: Matt 11.28–­30 as an Invitation of the Wise Royal Messiah Regarding the identity of the one who invites the crowds to come to him and find rest with him in 11.28–­30 as centrally defined by his royal messiahship does not imply the complete denial of the relevance of sapiential or Torah-­related characteristics. When Jesus proclaims in 12.42 that more than Solomon is here, for Matthew this certainly also applies with respect to that which distinguished Solomon, i.e., to wisdom. Furthermore, wisdom appears as an attribute of the teaching of Jesus in 13.54. Wisdom does not, however, constitute the key to the whole in 11.28–­30, just as the motif of wisdom introduced in 11.19 also plays only a marginal role in the Gospel of Matthew as a whole, so that there can be no talk of a developed Wisdom Christology85 in Matthew.86 In the overall context of the Matthean Christology, it must be said rather that wisdom is to be placed in this as one element of the royal messianic dignity of Jesus. Jesus is a wise king, and his teaching is an expression of his wisdom.87 And since it belongs 83 On “rest” in the context of ethically proper life conduct, see, e.g., T. Ash. 6.3: “You therefore, my children, keep the Law of the Lord; do not pay attention to evil as to good, but have regard for what is really good and keep it thoroughly in all the Lord’s commandments, taking it as your way of life and finding rest in it (καταπαύοντες)” (trans. H. C. Kee, OTP 1: 818). 84 A similar position is taken by Laansma 1997, 246–­48; and Bacchiocchi 1984, 296–­303. 85 A Wisdom Christology is postulated, for example, by Christ 1970, 75–­77, 93–­97, 100–­19, 132–­33; Suggs 1970, 55–­58, 70–­71, 96, 99–­100, 106, 127 (“Jesus is Sophia incarnate” [58]); and Deutsch 1987, 130. It is rather cautiously advocated by Lips 1990, 280–­90. The fact that in Matt 23.34 Jesus—­and not the “Wisdom of God” (Luke 11.49)—­sends out prophets is precisely not evidence for a Matthean Wisdom Christology (cf., e.g., Luz 2005c, 152–­53 [GV = 1997, 370–­71]; contrast, e.g., Christ 1970, 132–­33; Suggs 1970, 59–­60), for no one who does not know the postulated Matthean Vorlage can conclude here on the basis of the sending out saying (on this, cf. Matt 10.16) that Jesus takes the place of Wisdom (cf., e.g., Johnson 1974, 55). 86 Reservations against the thesis of a developed Matthean Wisdom Christology are also expressed, for example, by Davies/Allison 1991, 295; Luz 2005c, 152–­53 (GV = 1997, 370–­71); and Gathercole 2006, 193–­213. See further also Van de Sandt 2011, 316. For a critical engagement with the study of Suggs in particular, see Johnson 1974. 87 With respect to tradition history, reference can be made to the fact that already in Isa 11.1–­2 the promise of the new ruler from the root of Jesse is connected to the fact that

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to the conception of a king to issue laws, we must by no means exclude the aspect of the need for persons to keep Jesus’ instruction from Jesus’ exhortation to take his yoke upon oneself. However, the exhortation does not exhaust itself in this aspect, but the concern is more comprehensively with subjecting oneself to his messianic rule. And this exhortation finds its justification in the fact that the messianic king Jesus reigns with meekness and the yoke of his rule is correspondingly mild.88 With respect to the Torah-­related aspects in 11.28–­30, the results to this point can be given further contours if a conspicuous feature of the textual structure is taken into consideration—­ namely, the repeated two-­ member structure of the statements,89 to which only the promise of rest (vv. 28b, 29d) constitutes an exception. For, it must be noted that the textual elements that point to the theme of the Law always stand in the second position. The persons who are invited are initially designated as οἱ κοπιῶντες. They work hard and are, correspondingly, exhausted. In analogy to the description of the plight of the crowds as afflicted and languishing sheep in 9.36, the designation can be understood comprehensively.90 The reference to the πεφορτισμένοι then focuses the characterization on the aspect of the legal burden that the people had to shoulder under the previous authorities. The πεφορτισμένοι are not a second group alongside the κοπιῶντες—­Matthew uses only one article (οἱ κοπιῶντες καὶ πεφορτισμένοι). Rather, with this term Matthew places special emphasis on the aspect of the legal burden in the overall picture of the plight of the people. The corresponding element “my burden is light” also appears in the second position in the concluding statement of justification in v. 30, after the previous reference to the mild yoke of the rule of the messianic king. Likewise, in v. 29 the exhortation to take Jesus’ yoke upon oneself comes first; the second imperative καὶ μάθετε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ focuses this on the behavioral orientation that is to be learned from him.91 the Spirit of the Lord will rest upon him, “the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding (MT: ‫רוח חכמה ובינה‬/LXX: πνεῦμα σοφίας καὶ συνέσεως).” Cf. Laansma 1997, 233. 88 An allusion to Matt 11.29–­30 is probably present in 1 Clem. 16.17 (cf. Lona 1998, 234; contrast Lindemann 1992, 64), where the addressees are admonished with a rhetorical question: “for if the Lord so humbled himself, what should we do, who through him have come under the yoke of his grace (ἡμεῖς οἱ ὑπὸ τὸν ζυγὸν τῆς χάριτος αὐτοῦ δι’ αὐτοῦ ἐλθόντες)?” (trans. Holmes 2002, 47, 49). The metaphor “yoke of his grace” looks back here not only to the life conduct defined by the humility of Christ but more comprehensively to the assignment and stance of the Christians to(ward) Christ. 89 If the reconstruction of the traditional foundation of Luz 2001, 157 (GV = 1990, 199) is followed, then all the double members are redactional. 90 Cf. Charette 1992, 294–­95. 91 The two imperatives in 11.29a, b remain materially underdetermined when they are understood as mutually interpreting one another and thus as synonymous parallelism, as Deutsch 1987, 43, does: “With the parallel of μάθετε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ being ἄρατε τὸν ζυγόν μου, the specific referent of μανθάνω is the yoke of Jesus.”



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With respect to the latter, it must also be stated more precisely that the call to learn from Jesus includes the Torah-­related instruction but is not exhausted in this—­with this I return to what was intimated at the beginning of this chapter. For, first, Jesus’ instruction is not only Torah-­related teaching, and second, the behavioral orientation that is to be learned from Jesus—­and this is of fundamental significance for the christological dimension of Matthean ethics—­also includes his life practice.92 To be sure, the latter also includes, in turn, the fact that Jesus embodies the fulfillment of the Torah and the Prophets. With respect to 11.29, reference can be made concretely to the fact that the call to learn from him can be tied back to 9.9–­13 in the narrative flow. The Matthean Jesus exhorts the Pharisees who grumble about his table fellowship with tax collectors and sinners to go and learn93 what the prophetic saying from Hos 6.6 (“I desire mercy and not sacrifice”) means,94 and thus he presents his own behavior as a manifestation of the mercy required by God in the scriptures. But it also applies here that the orientation to Jesus’ life practice includes more than the aspects that directly show themselves to be the fulfillment of instructions from the Torah and the Prophets. Furthermore, we can see that the compositional placement of ethically relevant passages in the Matthean narrative is by no means irrelevant. Rather, it becomes evident that the successive unfolding of ethically relevant aspects is very purposefully interwoven into the narrative development and correlated with thematic shifts in the narrative. From a macro-­ compositional perspective, Jesus’ exhortation to come to him, take his yoke upon oneself, and learn from him in 11.28–­30 is an important building block in this narrative dynamic. 2. The Narrative Embedding of the Unfolding of Ethics in the Gospel of Matthew and the Compositional Function of Matt 11.28–­30 Let us first look back again: The Sermon on the Mount is part of the systematic presentation of the activity of Jesus in Matt 5–­9, which is framed by the two summaries in 4.23 and 9.35 and which Matthew emphatically conceptualizes as the activity of Jesus in Israel (4.23 [ἐν τῷ λαῷ]; 9.33). The Sermon on the Mount’s connection to the Torah fits harmoniously into 92 In this vein, see also Deutsch 1987, 45: “The disciples must learn from Jesus a pattern of life as well as verbal instruction.” 93 In addition to 9.13 and 11.29, the verb μανθάνειν occurs only in 24.32, where it is based on Mark 13.28, whereas the attestations in Matt 9.13 and 11.29 are distinctive to Matthew. 94 Matt 12.5–­7 shows that the Pharisees reject this learning process. For if they had recognized in the meantime what the repeatedly quoted prophetic saying from Hos 6.6 meant, they would not have condemned the disciples who were plucking heads of grain.

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this conceptually. In addition to the disciples, its audience also includes the crowds (7.28–­29), whom Matthew has introduced in 4.25: “great crowds followed him from Galilee and from the Decapolis and Jerusalem and Judea and from across the Jordan.” According to the most plausible interpretation of the geographical details, Matthew outlines with this the area of biblical Israel.95 Thus, the Sermon on the Mount is narratively integrated in such a way that with it the will of God is disclosed to the people of God represented by the crowds from all Israel on the basis of the Torah and the Prophets (5.17; 7.12), i.e., on the basis of the scriptures of Israel. If we now examine how the topic of the Torah, prominently exposed in the Sermon on the Mount, remains present in the narrative from Matt 12 onward, i.e., after Jesus’ invitation in 11.28–­30, then a conspicuous finding is to be noted. This occurs in explicit form only in two forms. First, in the form of public conversations. With the exception of the rich young man in 19.16–­22, Jesus is constantly approached by the authorities who are hostile to him. In 12.1–­14 Pharisees confront him about his and his disciples’ Sabbath practice. In 15.1–­9 they criticize the fact that the disciples eat with unwashed hands. In 19.3–­9 the question of divorce is raised. Finally, in the Jerusalem chapters there is a trilogy of controversy dialogues in 22.15–­40, which conclude with the highlighting of the double commandment of love as the highest guiding principles of the Torah and the Prophets.96 Second, reference can be made to the speech against the scribes and Pharisees in Matt 23, where the three middle woes in particular polemicize against their interpretation of the Law. Here too the concern is with something that happens in the broader public, for, as in the Sermon on the Mount, the addressees of the speech are, in addition to the disciples, also the crowds (23.1). If, by contrast, we look at the specific teachings of the disciples, then we can observe that the Torah is never explicitly thematized. The qualification of this statement with “never explicitly” is necessary insofar as there are indeed connections to this theme. Thus, the regulation for the practice of correcting a brother in 18.15 stands in the stream of tradition of the early Jewish reception of Lev 19.17–­18, as this is documented by Qumran texts,97 on the one hand, and by the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, on the other hand,98 and the second step of the process of correction alludes to the rule for witnesses from Deut 19.15 (Matt 18.16). 95 Cf. Cousland 2002, 53–­68; Konradt 2014b, 50–­52, with n189 (GV = 2007, 53–­55, with n193). 96 In a broader sense, the temple tax pericope in 17.24–­27 could also be included here. 97 See esp. CD 9.2–­8; 1QS 5.24–­6.1. 98 On this, see Konradt 2016, 396–­401.



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There is, however, no explicit recourse to the Torah in the form that a commandment from the scriptures of Israel becomes the subject of a discussion about interpretation. The overall findings are even more conspicuous as it comes to pass in the case of the controversy over divorce in Matt 19 only through a substantial revision of the Markan Vorlage (Mark 10.2–­12). Among other things, Matthew has moved forward the saying from Mark 10.11–­12, according to which remarriage means adultery, from the concluding instruction of the disciples into the public dispute with the Pharisees, which, by the way, is only consistent in the Matthean narrative flow, for in Matthew this position of Jesus is already found in the equally public Sermon on the Mount (5.32). Matthew did not, however, forgo disciple instruction after the debate about divorce; rather, he filled it with new content through the saying about refraining from marriage for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, in which the concern is no longer directly with Torah interpretation but with marriage asceticism and, in connection with this, sexual asceticism as one option that is available in the discipleship of Jesus in light of the kingdom of God that has come near. If one surveys the narrative complex of 16.21–­20.34, which is structured by the three passion predictions (16.21; 17.22–­23; 20.17–­19) and in which Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem with his disciples, then it becomes clear that here the weight shifts very clearly to the instruction of the disciples in particular. Here, Matthew could build to some extent on his Markan Vorlage—­for example in the case of the instruction of the disciples in 20.25–­28 (par. Mark 10.42–­45) after the question (of the mother) of the Zebedees.99 But he has strengthened this tendency significantly. Thus, unlike what we find in Mark 8.34, the exhortation to take up one’s cross in Matt 16.24–­28 is addressed only to the disciples. We have already referred to Matt 19.10–­12. Beyond the reworking of Mark 10.23–­31, the teaching of the disciples that follows the failed call of the rich man into discipleship is developed further through the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matt 20.1–­16). Above all, however, following the second passion prediction, Matthew has expanded the instruction of the disciples found in Mark 9.33–­37, 42–­47 into another large speech that circles around the theme of communal life in the community. The meaning of this focus on the teaching of the disciples emerges from the narrative context.100 After Jesus has 99 Reference may also be made to the short instruction of the three disciples who were witnesses of the transfiguration in 17.10–­12 (par. Mark 9.11–­13), but the content of this instruction is not ethical. 100 In addition, reference may also be made to the fact that in Matt 17.14–­20, through the extreme shortening of the healing story, the emphasis lies on the failure of the disciples and the concluding instruction of the disciples regarding faith in 17.19–­20.

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looked ahead to the building of the church in 16.17–­19, he, in light of his approaching passion, now gives his disciples—­who form the nucleus of the church that is to emerge after Easter101—­what they need for the shaping of the ecclesial fellowship of disciples, as they are travelling upon the way. As the thematization of their little faith in 17.20 illustrates,102 this is not exhausted in ethical instruction. For Matthew, however, such instruction does make an indispensable contribution. If one inquires further about the thematic basic lines of the instruction in the narrative complex of 16.21–­20.34 and its justification, we can also observe that aspects connected with Jesus’ way of suffering and with the soteriological significance of his death are dominant, so that the placing of the instruction on the way to Jerusalem appears fitting also with respect to content. At the outset, discipleship is defined more specifically as discipleship that involves taking up one’s cross (16.24–­25).103 At the end of the section Jesus offers himself expressis verbis as a model for the ethos of rulership or leadership to which the disciples are called. Whoever wishes to be great must be the servant and slave of the other, just as the Son of Man has come “to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (20.28). But above all, reference must be made again to the speech about the life of fellowship in the community in Matt 18, for Matthew develops an ethos of lowliness there (18.1–­4) and specifies its central form of concretization as merciful interaction with sinners that is defined by an unlimited readiness to forgive (18.6–­35).104 The thematic convergences with Matthew’s presentation and interpretation of the passion of Jesus are evident. First, Matthew has explicitly connected the death of Jesus with the soteriological motif of the forgiveness of sins (26.28), which he has already emphasized christologically through the interpretation of the name Jesus in 1.21.105 Second, the demand for self-­lowering that is fundamental for Matt 18 finds its counterpart in the fact that Matthew emphatically portrays Jesus’ way of suffering as the passion of the Son of God, who in obedience to the will of the Father 101 The future in 16.18 points to the time after Jesus’ resurrection. Jesus begins to build his church (μου τὴν ἐκκλησίαν) by sending out the circle of the twelve (minus Judas) in order to make disciples out of all nations (28.18–­20). On the connection between 16.18 and 28.18–­20, cf. Meier 1979, 112–­13; Konradt 2014b, 347–­48 (GV = 2007, 371). 102 Cf. previously Matt 6.30; 8.26; 14.31; 16.8. 103 There was already talk of this in the mission discourse in 10.38–­39, but the element of self-­denial is now added to this. 104 For a detailed justification of this view, see Konradt 2016, 381–­412. 105 Reference may be made in this context to the fact that Matthew has added the name Jesus, which is given a soteriological interpretation in 1.21, to the titulus crucis in 27.37. On this, cf. Senior 1985, 131; Heil 1991, 80; Herzer 2009, 139.



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(26.39, 42) refrains from demonstrations of the majesty and authority due to him as Son of God and, so to speak, takes the way into the lowliness of the cross upon himself106 in order to save others instead of himself (cf. 27.39–­43). In the community discourse in Matt 18, there is an explicit reference to the christological foundation that undergirds the whole discourse.107 For in the context of the speech, the promise that Jesus gives of his presence in v. 20 means concretely that one may be sure of the presence of the one who has, in fact, shown himself to be the king who is meek and humble/lowly of heart (11.29), who turned to the lost sheep (15.24; cf. 10.6) as the shepherd of his people (2.6), whose blood was poured out for the many for the forgiveness of sins (26.28), and whose engagement for sinners obligates those who gather in his name to care for sinners. In short, Matt 18 can be seen to be a piece of applied Christology.108 What stands at the center now is no longer—­as was the case in the framework of the fundamental presentation of the activity of Jesus in Israel in 4.23–­9.35—­the disclosing of the will of God expressed in the Torah and the Prophets, but what is unfolded is how people live when they submit themselves to the rule of the meek messiah who rules by serving. Compositionally, Jesus’ invitation in 11.28–­30 shows itself to be the start of this shift in emphasis. 3. Conclusion 1) The huge significance of the presentation of Jesus as interpreter of the Torah in Matthean ethics is not to be denied. Rather, Matthew shows a pronounced interest in demonstrating that Jesus and his people stand firmly on the ground of the Torah—­indeed, more than that, in demonstrating that a sufficient fulfillment of the Torah has basically only become possible through the disclosure of its full meaning by Jesus. It must, however, be stressed with equal clarity that the field of Matthean ethics is not adequately measured when these ethics are viewed only as Torah-­related instruction. Beyond this, learning from Jesus (11.29) includes, alongside instruction, also the orientation to his example, so that mimetic aspects of discipleship stand alongside the instruction. 106

On this, cf. section 3 in chapter 3 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 213–­17). Luz 2001, 458 (GV = 1997, 52) regards v. 20 as “the christological center of the entire chapter.” 108 For further discussion of the christological signature of the ethical instruction in Matt 18, see Konradt 2016, 381–­412. See also section 2.1.1 in chapter 6 of this volume (GV = Konradt 2016, 431). 107

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2) It is necessary to take seriously the fact that the Gospel of Matthew is a narrative also with respect to the analysis of ethics. The unfolding of ethics in the Gospel of Matthew can therefore be adequately discussed only in the horizon and as part of the narrative development of the Jesus story. Matt 11.28–­30 possesses a kind of hinge function in the compositional design of the narrative. The call to learn from him encompasses the previously developed aspect that he came to “fulfill” the Torah and the Prophets in teaching and life practice and at the same time forms the basis for the incorporation of the aspects of instruction and Christ mimesis that come to the fore in the continuation of the narrative. In the course of a narratively grounded analysis of Matthean ethics, it would be necessary—­I can only point to this task here—­to discuss how ethical themes are taken up again in the continuation of the narrative and given new contours. Thus, to provide only a single example, the theme of the readiness to forgive is already introduced in the Sermon on the Mount in the context of the Lord’s Prayer (6.12, 14–­15) and yet is then, as we have indicated, taken up and significantly deepened in Matt 18. 3) In the development of the invitation δεῦτε πρός με (11.28), Jesus’ first exhortation to take his yoke upon oneself (11.29a) comprehensively looks to the relationship to him as the messiah. The observance of his instruction is included in this as one important element and receives special emphasis through the subsequent imperative to learn from him (11.29b). Put the other way around, ethical conduct is integrated into the submission under the rule of the messiah. According to Matthew, however, this rule realizes itself in the merciful and salvific turning to human beings, which, in the Matthean interpretation, climaxes in the fact that Jesus takes the way to the cross upon himself in order to save others. At the same time, the Son, who possesses exclusive knowledge of the Father according to 11.27, is for Matthew Immanuel (1.23). Thus, whoever takes his yoke upon themselves submits themselves to the rule of the one in whom God himself is present. Far from only exhorting the hearer to follow Jesus’ instruction, Jesus’ invitation in 11.28–­30, to express the matter in classic nomenclature, points to the indicative foundation (also) of Matthean ethics and makes clear that its adequate thematization can only take place in the overarching framework of the overall view of reality presented in the Gospel—­and thus only in the horizon of Christology, as this is narratively developed by the evangelist in his story of Jesus. With respect to the relevance of Christology for the apprehension of Matthean ethics, Matt 11.28–­30 possesses almost paradigmatic significance. If, by



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contrast, the text is interpreted exclusively against the background of sapiential tradition, as it is represented by Sir 51.23–­27, then important aspects of the christological dimension of Matthean ethics, as these find expression in nuce in 11.28–­30, remain hidden.

Bibliography

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(2) Literature Abegg, M. G., and C. A. Evans. 1998. “Messianic Passages in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 191–­203 in Qumran-­Messianism: Studies on the Messianic Expectations in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by J. H. Charlesworth, H. Lichtenberger, and G. S. Oegema. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Allison, D. C. 1988. “Two Notes on a Key Text: Matthew 11:25–­30.” JThS 39: 477–­85. ———. 2005. “Matthew, Structure, Biographical Impulse, and the Imitatio Christi.” Pages 135–­55 in Studies in Matthew: Interpretation Past and Present. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic. Amir, Y. 1983. “Die Zehn Gebote bei Philon von Alexandrien.” Pages 131–­63 in Die hellenistische Gestalt des Judentums bei Philon von Alexandrien. Neukirchen-­Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Anderson, J. C. 1994. Matthew’s Narrative Web, Over, and Over, and Over Again. JSNTS 91. Sheffield: JSOT Press. Bacchiocchi, S. 1984. “Matthew 11:28–­30: Jesus’ Rest and the Sabbath.” AUSS 22: 289–­316. Backhaus, K. 2004. “Entgrenzte Himmelsherrschaft. Zur Entdeckung der paganen Welt im Matthäusevangelium.” Pages 75–­103 in “Dies ist das Buch . . .”: Das Matthäusevangelium. Interpretation –­Rezeption –­Rezeptionsgeschichte (Festschrift für H. Frankemölle). Edited by R. Kampling. Paderborn: Schöningh. Balabanski, V. 2008. “Mission in Matthew against the Horizon of Matthew 24.” NTS 54: 161–­75. Banks, R. 1974. “Matthew’s Understanding of the Law: Authenticity and Interpretation in Matthew 5:17–­20.” JBL 93: 226–­42. ———. 1975. Jesus and the Law in the Synoptic Tradition. MSSNTS 28. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Barth, G. 1975. “Das Gesetzesverständnis des Evangelisten Matthäus.” Pages 54–­154 in Überlieferung und Auslegung im Matthäusevangelium. 7th ed. Edited by G. Bornkamm, G. Barth, and H. J. Held. Neukirchen-­Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Bauer, D. R. 1995. “The Kingship of Jesus in the Matthean Infancy Narrative: A Literary Analysis.” CBQ 57: 306–­23. Bauer, J. B. 1961. “Das milde Joch und die Ruhe, Matth. 11,28–­30.” ThZ 17: 99–­106. Baxter, W. 2006. “Healing and the ‘Son of David’: Matthew’s Warrant.” NT 48: 36–­49. ———. 2012. Israel’s Only Shepherd: Matthew’s Shepherd Motif and His Social Setting. LNTS 457. London: T&T Clark. Beaton, R. 2002. Isaiah’s Christ in Matthew’s Gospel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Beauchamp, P. 1988. “L’Évangile de Matthieu et l’héritage d’Israël.” RSR 76: 5–­38. Becker, E.-­M., and A. Runesson, eds. 2011. Mark and Matthew I: Comparative Readings; Understanding the Earliest Gospels in Their First-­Century Settings. WUNT 271. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck.

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Index of Authors

Abegg, M. G., 55 Allison, D. C., 10, 13–­14, 16, 18, 29, 39, 42, 46, 62, 66–­67, 70, 76, 78–­79, 83–­84, 87, 92, 96, 105, 113, 119, 127–­28, 141, 154, 156, 161–­63, 166–­68, 173, 177 Amir, Y., 128 Anderson, J. C., 47 Bacchiocchi, S., 171, 176–­77 Backhaus, K., 32, 46 Balabanski, V., 18 Banks, R., 78–­79, 84, 88, 102 Barth, G., 62–­63, 65, 72, 77, 84, 91, 93, 95–­96, 175 Bauer, D. R., 46, 171 Bauer, J. B., 162, 168, 176 Baxter, W., 44, 47–­48, 54, 56, 176 Beaton, R., 29, 44 Beauchamp, P., 44 Becker, E.-­M., 1 Becker, M., 55 Berg, W., 69 Berger, K., 101, 105, 125, 128–­29, 150 Bergmeier, R., 55 Betz, H. D., 84, 104–­5, 137, 161–­62, 164, 166 Billerbeck, P., 26 Blanton, T. R., 44, 75 Blaschke, A., 20 Block, D. I., 47

Böckler, A., 38 Boer, M. C. de, 134 Botner, M., 37 Böttrich, G., 107 Branch-­Trevathan, G., 25, 107 Brandenburger, E., 153 Breytenbach, C., 40 Broer, I., 25–­26, 39, 54, 59, 70, 75, 77, 79–­81, 92, 127, 165 Brown, R. E., 39 Brown, S., 18 Brueggemann, W., 43 Büchler, A., 169 Burchard, C., v, xvi, 64, 75–­77, 82, 84–­85, 96, 104, 165 Burger, C., 39 Burridge, R. A., 161 Carlston, C. E., 159, 163 Carter, W., 2, 22, 29–­30 Chae, Y. S., 45, 47, 49, 54, 56, 171, 176 Charette, B., 167, 171, 178 Charles, J. D., 25 Charlesworth, J. H., 53–­54 Chester, A., 160 Christ, F., 163, 166, 177 Claussen, C., 4 Collins, J. J., 21, 53, 55 Colson, F. H., 109, 116, 118, 121–­22 Cousland, J. R. C., 10–­11, 49, 54–­55, 144, 172, 180 213

214

Index of Authors

Cullmann, O., 59 Cuvillier, É., 77, 126

Friedrich, J., 150–­51 Fuller, R. H., 126

Dautzenberg, G., 86, 121–­22, 181 Davies, W. D., 10, 13–­14, 16, 18, 29, 39, 42, 46, 62, 66–­67, 70, 76, 78–­79, 83–­84, 87, 92, 96, 105, 113, 119, 127–­28, 141, 154, 156, 162–­63, 166–­68, 173, 177 DeConick, A., 162–­63 Deutsch, C., 161, 163–­64, 166, 177–­79, 192 Dietrich, W., 37–­38, 56 Dietzfelbinger, C., 25, 75, 87 Dobbeler, A. von, 8–­9 Dobbeler, S. von, 92, 127 Dochhorn, J., 175 Doering, L., 90 Donaldson, T. L., 34 Doole, J. A., 1 Dormeyer, D., 39 Draper, J. A., 111 Duling, D. C., 44, 49, 54, 171 Dupont, J., 63, 155 Dvořáček, J., 54

Gale, A. M., 21 García Martínez, F., 43, 55 Gathercole, S., 162, 166, 177 Gemünden, P. von, 107, 111 Gentry, P. J., 175 Gewalt, D., 151 Gibbs, J. M., 50 Gielen, M., 10, 26, 42–­43, 46, 79, 91–­94, 97, 99, 102, 127, 139 Giesen, H., 61–­63, 65, 68, 73 Gnilka, J., 22, 39, 42, 63, 65–­68, 73, 85, 92, 105–­6, 113–­14, 119, 121, 127, 163, 166 Goldschmidt, L., 110–­11 Green, H. B., 155 Grindheim, S., 151–­52 Gundry, R., 42–­43, 46–­48, 62, 84, 105, 116, 128, 162, 166 Gurtner, D. M., 1, 66

Ebersohn, M., 118 Ebner, M., 151–­52 Eckstein, H.-­J., 16, 25, 75–­76, 84, 93, 165 Ehrman, B. D., 68, 117, 162 Eissfeldt, O., 59 Epstein, I., 111 Evans, C. A., 55, 159, 163 Feldmeier, R., 63, 82, 87 Feldtkeller, A., 22 Feneberg, R., 14 Fiedler, M. J., 62, 65, 73 Fiedler, P., 3, 14, 42, 44, 119 Fieger, S. M., 162 Fisher, L. R., 54 Foster, P., 2, 16, 18, 26, 36, 98, 116, 159 France, R. T., 67, 163 Frankemölle, H., 10, 17–­19, 51, 76, 163

Häfner, G., 60, 62–­66 Hagner, D. A., 2, 18, 61–­62, 67, 114, 160, 164 Hakola, R., 8 Ham, C. A., 49 Hare, D. R. A., 7 Harrington, D. J., 16, 18, 21, 64, 151 Hartin, P. J., 2 Hays, R. B., 47 Heater, H., 42 Heidegger, M., 15 Heil, J. P., 30, 47, 176, 182 Hense, O., 110, 117, 170 Herzer, J., 182 Heubült, C., 93 Hill, D., 140 Hinkle, M., 145 Hoffmann, P., 79, 92 Holmes, M. W., 100, 178 Holtz, G., 34 Hoppe, R., 88, 126 Houlden, L., 17, 93 Hummel, R., 81, 84, 90, 92, 96, 104, 127 Hunziker-­Rodewald, R., 43–­44



Index of Authors

Jabbarian, T., 25 Jefford, C. N., 110–­11 Jeremias, J., 105 Johnson, M. D., 166, 177 Josephus, 21, 24, 54, 84, 86, 93, 95, 110, 112, 117, 119, 121–­23, 127–­28, 168–­70, 175 Jung, L., 111 Kampen, J., 1–­2, 33, 84, 104, 160 Karrer, M., 37–­38, 42, 54 Kellermann, U., 101 Kee, H. C., 117, 133, 156, 177 Keener, C. S., 52 Kennedy, J., 141 Kessler, R., 42 Kiilunen, J., 95 Kingsbury, J. D., 40, 50, 59, 71 Kloppenborg, J. S., 79, 92, 110–­11 Knibb, M. A., 38, 53, 164 Knowles, M., 176 Kollmann, B., 81 Korenjak, M., 169 Kraus, H.-­J., 39 Kraus, W., 10, 19, 21, 29, 70 Küchler, M., 117 Kugel, J. L., 148 Kuhn, H.-­W., 25, 75, 165 Laansma, J., 163, 166–­68, 171, 173–­78 Laato, A., 53, 171 Lambrecht, J., 95 Landmesser, C., 44, 139–­40 Larson, J., 110, 117 Légasse, S., 52 Leon, H. J., 4 Levine, A.-­J., 10, 19 Levine, L. I., 5 Lindemann, A., 117, 178 Lips, H. von, 163, 177 Loader, W. R. G., 55, 84, 104, 107, 114–­15, 119, 159–­60, 164 Lohmeyer, M., 18, 45 Löhr, H., 101, 109, 120, 124 Lohse, E., 88 Lona, H. E., 178

215

Lövestam, E., 37 Lovsky, F., 10 Luck, U., 72, 91, 105, 107, 119–­20, 126, 163 Luomanen, P., 8, 27, 76, 79–­80, 93, 162, 164 Luther, M., 130 Luz, U., 1–­2, 6–­7, 9, 13, 18, 22, 25, 27, 29, 42, 45, 46–­47, 50, 52, 59–­61, 63–­70, 72–­76, 79–­81, 83, 86–­87, 90, 92, 96, 106–­8, 113–­15, 122, 127–­28, 131–­32, 134, 136–­37, 139, 145, 151–­52, 155, 157, 160, 162, 163–­66, 173, 176–­78, 183 Lybæk, L., 145, 163, 176 Magee, G. A., 78, 102, 159 Maier, J., 43 Manning, G. T., 48 Marguerat, D., 7, 66 Martin, F., 47 Maschmeier, J.-­Chr., 126, 138, 141 Mayer-­Haas, A. J., 77–­78, 90–­92, 98, 101, 103, 127, 143, 164, 174 McEleney, N. J., 21 McIver, R. K., 1 McKnight, S., 45 McMahon, C., 151 Meier, J. P., 6, 10, 19, 22, 52–­53, 60, 62, 65, 78, 80, 82, 182 Meiser, M., 88, 100, 126 Meisinger, H., 126 Menken, M. J. J., 42–­43, 176 Menninger, R. E., 159 Merkel, H., 129 Merz, A., 42 Metzner, R., 63 Minear, P. S., 45 Mitchell, M. W., 168 Mohrlang, R., 19 Mora, V., 10 Moss, C. M., 167, 171, 175 Müller, K., 34–­35, 85, 87 Neusner, J., 110 Neyrey, J. H., 52

216

Index of Authors

Niebuhr, K.-­W., 25, 34, 54–­55, 75, 81, 109 Niederwimmer, K., 111–­12 Niemand, C., 151–­53 Nolan, B. M., 45 Nolland, J., 52, 67, 72 Novakovic, L., 39, 41, 44, 49–­50, 54–­56, 98, 143, 171 Oberforcher, R., 42 Olmstead, W. G., 30, 75, 79 Ottenheijm, E., 141 Overman, J. A., 2, 7–­8, 21, 33, 49, 93, 98, 160 Paffenroth, K., 49, 56 Park, E. C., 7 Paul, D. J., 7, 42 Paulsen, H., 117 Pennington, J. T., 26, 107 Pesch, R., 39 Philo, 4–­5, 20–­21, 47, 53, 62, 76, 84, 95, 108–­10, 112, 116–­19, 121–­24, 128, 169–­70, 174 Pietsch, M., 38, 53 Pleše, Z., 68, 162 Pomykala, K. E., 53 Popkes, W., 67, 73 Pratscher, W., 120 Pregeant, R., 166 Przybylski, B., 3, 16, 61–­63, 65, 67, 73 Ratzinger, J., 59–­60, 72 Rau, E., 24, 28 Repschinski, B., 1–­2, 47, 89, 91, 94, 98, 102, 124, 159–­60 Riedl, J., 39 Robinson, J. M., 79, 92 Roloff, J., 38 Rothfuchs, W., 43 Runesson, A., 1–­2, 8, 19, 21, 33, 36, 160 Ruzer, S., 105 Saldarini, A. J., 2–­3, 7–­8, 10, 18–­19, 21, 23, 33, 47, 49, 98–­99, 160

Sand, A., 126, 160 Sänger, D., 82, 84, 104, 110, 118 Schäfer, P., 20 Schaller, B., 104 Schellong, D., 79 Schnackenburg, R., 155 Schneider, G., 37 Schnelle, U., 40 Schniewind, J., 59 Schöllgen, G., 117 Schrage, W., 28 Schreiber, S., 38, 53, 171 Schweizer, E., 22, 26, 43, 79, 160 Scott, J. M. C., 52 Seeanner, J. A., 139 Seebass, H., 42 Segal, A. F., 21 Senior, D., 1, 30–­31, 10, 16, 18, 47, 70, 182 Sim, D., 2, 17, 19, 22–­26, 28–­29, 35, 75–­76, 78–­79, 92–­93, 103, 127, 160 Slee, M., 18–­19, 22, 24, 160 Snodgrass, K., 13, 76 Soares-­Prabhu, G. M., 43 Söding, T., 70–­71 Stanton, G. N., 3, 22, 46, 89, 93, 151, 163, 167, 171, 174–­75 Stegemann, H., 53 Stemberger, G., 101, 109 Strack, H. L., 26 Strauss, M. L., 53 Strecker, G., 7, 63, 65, 67, 81, 105, 107, 113, 121, 155, 162, 164, 166 Streeter, B. H., 22 Strotmann, A., 1 Suggs, M. J., 81, 84, 161, 163–­64, 166–­67, 177 Suhl, A., 37, 39, 50 Talbot, E., 175–­76 Thackeray, H. S. J., 122 Theißen, G., 39, 42, 46, 57, 93, 156 Thielman, F., 78, 86–­88, 92, 102, 127, 159



Index of Authors

Thiessen, M., 93 Thomas, J., 109 Tigchelaar, E. J. C., 43 Tiwald, M., 1 Torijano, P. A., 54 Trebilco, P., 4 Trilling, W., 65, 104, 107 Tuckett, C., 16, 90–­91 Vahrenhorst, M., 78–­79, 86, 90, 122, 127, 160 Van der Horst, P. W., 109 Van de Sandt, H., 1, 19, 111–­12, 163–­64, 166–­67, 173–­74, 177 Van Loopik, M., 110 Van Tilborg, S., 47 Verseput, D. J., 10, 39, 46–­47, 89, 162, 167, 171, 173, 175 Vögtle, A., 42, 111 Weaver, D. J., 45 Wengst, K., 100, 117 Weren, W. J. C., 12, 16, 21, 125

White, L. M., 19 Wick, P., 105 Wilk, F., 29, 52 Willitts, J., 1, 42, 47–­48 Wilson, W. T., 109–­10 Winninge, M., 168 Wintermute, O. S., 118 Wolff, H. W., 140 Wong, E. K.-­C., 1, 16, 91, 160 Wright, B. G., 109, 112, 147, 164 Wright, R. B., 38, 117 Yang, Y.-­E., 87–­88, 90–­91, 98 Yarnold, E., 125 Yieh, Y.-­H. J., 80, 159 Zangenberg, J. K., 19 Zeller, D., 80 Zetterholm, M., 22 Ziesler, J. A., 65, 67, 73 Ziethe, C., 25, 29, 160 Zimmermann, J., 38, 53–­54, 171 Zumstein, J., 22

217

Index of Ancient Sources

1. Biblical Writings

23.23 52 23.28 52 30.17–­21 127 31.15 174 33.2 52 33.14 176 34.6 131 34.11 52 34.21 90 35.2 174 Leviticus 15.11 127 18.3 52 19.12 83, 120–­21, 123 19.16 109 19.17 147 19.17–­18 147, 180 19.18 83, 128 20.10 119 22.28 136 23.3 174 24.17 82, 105 25.38 169 26.13 168 27.30 97, 125 Numbers 12.3 174 14.19 139 25.1–­2 117 27.17 47, 145 28.9–­10 90, 142

1.1 Hebrew Bible / Old Testament Genesis 2 87 9.6 82, 105 9.25–­27 52 17 21 12.3 29 18.18 29 22.18 29 24.3 52 24.37 52 26.4 29 27.40 168 28.1–­8 52 49 42 49.10 42 Exodus 16.23 174 20.1 128 20.3–­6 110 20.7 83, 86, 110, 121, 122–­23 20.8–­11 101 20.13 105 20.16 110, 121 20.18–­22 128 21.12 82, 105 21.14 109 22.21 21 23.12 174 219

220

Index of Ancient Sources

30.3 83, 120, 129 31.16 117 35.16–­34 82, 105 35.51–­52 52 Deuteronomy 3.20 176 5.7–­9 110 5.11 110 5.12–­15 101 5.20 110 5.33LXX 176 6.5 16 11.22 136 12.9–­10 176 13.18 137 14.22–­23 97, 125 19.11–­13 82, 105 19.15 180 20.17 52 22.22 120 23.22 83, 120 23.22–­24 129 24 86 24.1–­4 83 24.6 109 25.11–­12 109 25.19 176 27.24 109 32.29 169 Joshua 1.13 176 1.15 176 3.10 52 21.44 176 22.4 176 23.1 176 24.11 52 Judges 1.1ff. 52 1 Samuel (1 Kgdms) 16.14–­23 54 21.1–­7 142 21.2–­7 37 2 Samuel (2 Kgdms)

5.2

41–­44, 57, 171 5.6–­8 56 5.8 56 7.8–­17 38 7.11 176 7.11–­14 38 7.14 38, 40 7.16 38 1 Kings (3 Kgdms) 2.46 54 5.18 176 8.56 176 12 168 22.17 47, 145 2 Kings (4 Kgdms) 23.4–­25 20 1 Chronicles 11.2 43 22.9 176 22.18 176 23.25 176 29.22 54 2 Chronicles 1.1 54 10 168 10.4 168 10.4–­14 168 10.9 168 10.10 168 10.11 168 10.14 168 13.6 54 14.5–­6 176 15.15 176 18.16 47, 145 20.30 176 30.9 131 30.26 54 32.22LXX 176 34.1–­7 20 34.33 20 35.1–­19 20 35.3 54



Index of Ancient Sources

Ezra 9.1 52 Nehemiah 9.17 131, 139 9.31 131 13.12 97 Job 28.12–­27 166 31.1 117 Psalms 2.3LXX 168 2.7 38–­40 2.9 53–­54 6.3 143 8.3 175 9.14 143 11.4 122 24.7LXX 169 24.7–­8LXX 122, 169 24.16LXX 143 25.11LXX 143 26.7LXX 143 29.11LXX 143 30.10LXX 143 30.20LXX 169 33.9LXX 169 36.26LXX 150 40.5LXX 143 40.11LXX 143 48.3 122 49.14LXX 121 50.3LXX 139, 143 50.14 83, 129 LXX 51.11 169 67.11LXX 169 68.17LXX 169 72 153 78.71–­72 43–­44 85.5LXX 169 85.15LXX 131 89.27–­28 38, 40 95.11 176 99.5LXX 169 102.8LXX 131

221

103.19 122 105.1LXX 169 106.1LXX 169 106.5LXX 62 106.9LXX 62 106.38 52 108.21LXX 169 110.1 41 110.4LXX 131 111.4LXX 131 118.17 150 118.26 37 118.39 LXX 170 118.68LXX 169–­70 129LXX 137 132.17 53 135.1LXX 169 144.7LXX 169 144.8LXX 131 144.9LXX 169 145.8LXX 50 154 164 Proverbs 1.1 54 1.20–­23 163 6.25 115, 117 6.25–­35 118 14.21 150 14.31 113, 150–­51 15.8 113 15.18 111 17.5 113, 137, 150 19.17 150–­51 21.3 113 21.27 113 22.9 150 28.8 150 29.14 153 29.22 111 Ecclesiastes 1.1 54 Isaiah 3.14 12 5 13

222

Index of Ancient Sources

5.1–­7 12 5.2 12 5.7 12 7.14 39 8.23 29 9.3 168 10.27 168 11 54 11.1 42 11.1–­2 177 11.4 54 11.10 176 13.14 47, 147 14.3 176 14.5 168 14.25 168 22.22 38 23.1–­18 52 25.10LXX 176 26.6 162 27.2–­6 12 29.13 128–­29 32.6 62 32.17–­18 176 35.5 50 42.1–­4 29, 55, 174 47.6 168 49.10 62 53.4 55 53.12 59 55.7 139 58.1–­8 113 60.6 29 62.11 175 63.14 176 65.13 62 66.1 122 Jeremiah 2.20LXX 168 3.15 48 5.5 164, 168 6.16 176 6.20 113 7.3–­11 113 12.10 12 23.1 47

23.1–­2 48 23.1–­3 47 23.1–­4 47–­48 23.1–­6 48–­49 23.3–­4 48 23.5 48 23.5–­6 48 25.22 52 27.3 52 27.6 47 27.8 168 27.11 52, 168 28.2 168 28.4 168 28.11 168 28.14 168 30.8 168 30.9 48 33.14–­17 48 33.15 53 34.8LXX 168 34.11LXX 168 35.2LXX 168 35.4LXX 168 35.11LXX 168 35.14LXX 168 37.8LXX 168 38.12LXX 62 38.25LXX 62 40.11LXX 169 47.4 52 50.6 47 51.33LXX 176 52.32LXX 170 Lamentations 5.5 175 Ezekiel 26–­28 52 34–­37 47 34 47–­49, 57, 176 34.3 48 34.4 48, 55, 176 34.5 47–­48, 145 34.7–­10 48 34.8 47–­48, 145 34.10 48



Index of Ancient Sources

34.11–­16 48 34.13 176 34.15 176 34.16 49, 55, 176 34.17–­22 48 34.23 48, 56, 176 34.23–­31 48 34.24 48, 53 34.27 168 34.31 47 37.25 53 Daniel 3.87 162 3.89LXX 169 Hosea 5.12–­6.3 141 6.1–­3 140 6.6 25, 89–­90, 94, 96, 103, 113, 124, 132, 140–­44, 146, 153, 167, 172, 179 11.1 39 Joel 2.13 131 4.4 52 Amos 8.11 62 9.11–­12 38 Jonah 4.2 131, 139 Micah 5.1 42–­43 5.1–­3 42, 171 5.3 42–­43, 48 6.8 154, 167 Nahum 1.7 169 Zephaniah 3.9 168 3.12 162 Zechariah 3.8 53 6.12 53 8.17 83, 120

223

9.2–­4 52 9.9 57, 174–­75 10.2 47–­48, 56, 145 10.2–­3 48 11.17 47 13.7 47

1.2 Deuterocanonical Works and Septuagint Baruch 1.2 12 3.2 139 3.9–­4.4 164 3.32 166 Susanna 7–­8 115 Judith 2.28 52 11.19 47, 144 1 Maccabees 2.44 111 5.15 52 6.11 170 8.18 168 8.31 168 13.41 168 2 Maccabees 1.24 169–­70 10.35 111 4 Maccabees 1.17 164 2.16 81 Prayer of Manasseh 7.11 169 Sirach (Sir) 1.6–­9 166 1.22 111 1.22–­23 81 2.11 131 5.6 139 6.18–­37 163 6.19 164, 175 6.28 175 9.8 117 9.8–­9 120 10.18 81

224

Index of Ancient Sources

17.11 164 18.13 147 22.24LXX 112 23.4LXX 118 23.9–­11 123 24 164 24.19 163 24.21 62 25.21LXX 117 26.9LXX 116 26.11LXX 116 26.22LXX 118 26.28LXX 111 27.30 81, 111 28.2–­5 149 28.3 111 28.8–­12 111 29.1 150 29.8–­10 150 30.35 168 31.3–­4 175 33.27 168 34.21–­24 113 34.25–­27 109 35.1–­12 113 40.1 168 41.22–­23LXX 120 47.11 38 47.12 54 47.13 176 51 175 51.12 53 51.13–­30 167, 175 51.23–­27 163, 185 51.26 167 51.27 175 Tobit 1.16 150 4.7–­8 (BA) 150 4.16 (BA) 150 8.7 117–­18 Wisdom of Solomon 6.11–­16 163 6.14 164 7.20 54 8.4 166

9.9 164, 166 9.11 166 11.23 139 14.26 110 15.1 169 15.1–­2 169

1.3 New Testament Matthew 1 1.1

39, 41 17, 40, 42, 50–­51, 53 1.1–­4.16 172 1.1–­17 40, 50 1.2–­3 42 1.2–­17 41, 154, 171 1.4–­16 41 1.16 42 1.17 41–­42 1.18–­25 39, 41 1.20 39, 41 1.21 10, 43–­44, 50, 60, 139, 148–­49, 182 1.22 39 1.22–­23 47, 77, 102 1.23 60, 184 1.25 39 2 29, 43, 45–­46 2.1 45 2.1–­12 42 2.2 41, 45, 50, 171 2.3 11, 45 2.3–­6 71 2.4 40–­41, 46, 50 2.5–­6 42, 46 2.6 6, 10, 40–­44, 57, 143, 171–­72, 183 2.7–­8 46 2.8 45 2.9 45 2.11 45 2.12 45 2.13 45 2.15 39, 45, 47, 77, 102, 141



Index of Ancient Sources

2.16 45 2.16–­18 46 2.17–­18 47, 77, 102 2.19 45 2.20–­21 22 2.22 45 2.23 47, 77, 102 3 66 3.1–­2 65 3.1–­12 65–­67 3.2 45, 66 3.3 67 3.6 66 3.7–­9 65 3.8 66 3.11 66, 68 3.13–­17 60, 65, 67–­74 3.14 67–­68, 72 3.14–­15 67, 69 3.15 xiv, 48, 59–­61, 65, 69, 72–­74, 76–­78, 102 3.16 72 3.16–­17 39, 68, 71–­72 3.17 39, 72 4 70 4.1–­11 141 4.2–­4 71 4.3 70 4.6 70 4.11 70 4.12–­16 31 4.14–­16 47, 77, 102 4.15 29 4.16 10, 149 4.17 45, 66, 87 4.17–­11.1 172 4.18–­22 19, 172 4.23 3, 10, 43–­45, 49–­50, 64, 144, 171, 179 4.23–­24 144 4.23–­9.35 183 4.24 49, 171 4.25 180 5 97, 131, 165

225

5–­7 49, 171 5.1–­2 89 5.1–­7.27 19 5.1–­7.28 44 5.2 111 5.3 62, 155 5.3–­10 137, 155 5.3–­12 76, 154 5.4 62, 155 5.5 62, 155 5.6 61–­64, 155 5.7 131–­33, 137–­39, 154–­55 5.8 155 5.8–­10 62 5.9 155 5.10 61, 63–­64, 155 5.11–­12 63, 155 5.12 26, 79 5.16 64 5.17 26, 74–­79, 82, 90, 92–­93, 102–­3, 141–­42, 153, 165, 167, 180 5.17ff. 80 5.17–­18 78 5.17–­19 18, 25–­26, 91, 93–­94 5.17–­20 25, 76–­80, 82, 88, 92, 102–­3, 165 5.17–­48 76–­89, 104, 124, 126, 165 5.17–­7.12 76, 164 5.18 19, 24–­26, 78, 103, 127 5.18–­19 75, 93, 160 5.19 25–­27, 79–­80, 93–­94, 102–­3, 125 5.19–­20 27, 103 5.20 26, 61, 64, 80, 83–­87, 89, 91, 94, 98, 103, 120, 165

226

Index of Ancient Sources

5.20ff. 89 5.20–­48 85, 126, 165 5.21 82–­83, 101, 105–­8, 114, 119, 122 5.21–­22 105–­14, 119 5.21–­26 113, 120, 125 5.21–­30 81, 120, 129 5.21–­32 160 5.21–­48 25, 34, 75, 80–­89, 98, 103–­23, 128, 131 5.22 81, 105–­8, 111–­12, 115–­16, 165 5.22–­24 151 5.23–­24 96, 113 5.23–­26 112 5.24 113 5.25–­26 113 5.27 83, 101, 114, 118, 122 5.27–­28 110, 114 5.27–­30 120 5.28 81, 114–­20 5.29 119–­20 5.29–­30 119 5.30 119 5.31 84 5.32 181 5.33 83, 120–­21 5.33–­37 101, 120–­23, 160 5.34 122 5.34–­35 122 5.34–­36 122 5.35 122 5.39–­42 86 5.43 83, 101 5.43–­48 89, 101, 114, 160 5.45 155 5.46 17 5.46–­47 100

5.47 17, 84 5.48 87–­89, 126, 131 6.1 61, 64, 74, 115 6.1–­18 47 6.2 47 6.2–­4 155 6.5 47 6.7 17 6.8 163 6.9 122 6.12 135, 138, 149, 184 6.14–­15 100, 135, 149, 184 6.16 47 6.19–­21 155 6.30 182 6.32 17, 64 6.33 61, 64, 137 6.34 144 7.1 139 7.3–­5 151 7.12 25, 77, 79, 97, 111, 153, 156, 167, 180 7.13–­27 137, 152 7.28–­29 88, 165, 180 7.29 4, 44 8–­9 45 8.1–­9.34 44 8.5–­13 29 8.16 144, 172 8.16–­17 55 8.17 47, 77, 102 8.26 182 8.28–­34 29, 144 9.2 43, 139 9.2–­8 44, 139 9.2–­13 172 9.6–­10.8 143 9.8 45, 100 9.9 139, 149 9.9–­13 17, 89, 139–­42, 144, 147, 149, 166, 179



Index of Ancient Sources

9.10–­13 155 9.11 89 9.13 17, 25, 34, 63, 89, 91, 103, 113, 124, 132, 140–­42, 145–­46, 153–­54, 160, 167, 172, 179 9.27 40, 49, 70, 132, 143–­44, 146, 150, 153 9.27–­31 50, 143, 171 9.32 50 9.33 11, 68, 179 9.33–­34 11 9.35 3, 45, 49, 144–­45, 171, 179 9.36 40, 44, 46–­48, 51, 132, 141, 145–­46, 149, 153, 156, 172, 178 9.36–­11.1 149, 172 10 6, 8, 44 10.1 45, 49, 145, 171 10.5–­6 6, 8–­9, 44 10.5–­42 45 10.6 44, 46–­47, 145, 172, 176, 183 10.7 45, 66, 145 10.7–­8 45 10.8 45 10.16 177 10.17 3, 5, 8, 106 10.23 6 10.24–­25 71 10.28 43, 172 10.38–­39 71, 182 10.39 43, 172 10.40–­42 151 10.41–­42 26, 79 11–­12 172 11.2 40, 50, 68, 98, 166, 173

227

11.2–­3 67–­68 11.2–­6 54–­55, 70, 172 11.5 54, 56 11.7 173 11.10 173 11.11 26, 79 11.13 77–­79 11.16–­19 173 11.19 17, 98, 166–­67, 177 11.20–­24 173 11.25 173, 175 11.25–­27 161 11.25–­30 97–­98, 161, 175 11.27 77, 162–­63, 165–­66, 173, 184 11.28 162–­63, 174, 176, 178, 184 11.28–­29 176 11.28–­30 xiv, 98, 101–­2, 143, 159–­85 11.29 x, 155, 159, 162–­64, 167, 169, 172, 174, 176, 178–­79, 183–­84 11.29–­30 97, 169, 178 11.30 98, 168, 178 12 174, 180 12.1 103, 143 12.1–­8 90–­91, 144, 146, 153, 166, 174 12.1–­14 25, 32, 75, 93, 98, 101, 161, 174, 180 12.1–­21 31 12.2 144 12.3 34, 63, 90 12.3–­4 37, 174 12.3–­8 143 12.5 34, 63 12.5–­7 90, 103, 142, 160, 179 12.6 94

228

Index of Ancient Sources

12.7

25, 34, 63, 103, 113, 124, 132, 142, 144, 150, 153–­54, 167 12.9 3, 144 12.9–­14 91, 144, 166, 174 12.10 144 12.12 91, 144 12.15 31, 55, 144, 172 12.15–­21 55 12.17–­21 47, 55, 77, 102 12.18–­21 29, 174 12.19–­20 174 12.20 55 12.22 50 12.22–­23 50, 70 12.22–­24 171, 174 12.22–­45 8 12.23 11, 40, 50 12.23–­24 8, 11, 46 12.28 143 12.33 68 12.34 12 12.38–­45 173 12.42 177 12.48–­50 151 13.11 13, 173 13.12 13–­14 13.24–­33 13 13.30 115 13.35 13, 47, 77, 102 13.52 4 13.54 3, 177 14.13–­21 52 14.14 49, 132, 144–­46, 156, 171 14.22–­33 69, 70 14.28–­31 69 14.31 182 14.35–­36 144 15 91–­92, 127, 129 15.1–­6 130 15.1–­9 129, 180 15.1–­20 18, 26–­27, 32,

75, 92–­93, 101, 127–­29, 161, 166 15.1–­28 31, 51 15.2 91, 127–­28 15.2–­3 127 15.3 79, 91, 128 15.4 78, 84, 128–­29 15.4–­6 92, 96 15.5–­6 128 15.6 128 15.7 47 15.7–­9 128 15.8 129 15.10–­11 92, 129 15.11 92, 129 15.14 47, 50, 94, 128 15.15–­20 129 15.17 92, 127 15.17–­18 129 15.18 129 15.19 83, 92, 111, 115, 129–­30 15.19–­20 160 15.20 92, 103, 127 15.21 30, 52 15.21–­28 18, 29, 51 15.22 40, 49, 52–­53, 132, 143–­44, 146, 150 15.22–­23 52 15.24 6, 29, 40–­41, 43–­44, 46–­47, 141, 143, 145, 172, 176, 183 15.25 52 15.26 52 15.27 52 15.28 52 15.29–­31 172 15.30 49, 56, 144, 171 15.31 56 15.32 132, 146, 150, 153, 156, 172 15.32–­39 146



Index of Ancient Sources

15.37 52 16.1–­4 173 16.8 182 16.16 40, 69, 71 16.17 70 16.17–­19 24, 182 16.18 4, 71, 182 16.18–­19 22 16.20 71 16.21 181 16.21–­20.34 181, 182 16.24–­25 182 16.24–­26 71 16.24–­28 181 16.25 43, 172 16.27 137 17.1–­9 70 17.1–­13 143 17.9 71 17.14–­20 143, 181 17.15 49, 132, 143–­44, 146 17.19–­20 181 17.20 182 17.22–­23 181 18 102, 138, 147–­48, 182–­84 18.1 147 18.1–­4 26, 79, 144, 147–­48, 182 18.2–­4 147 18.5 147 18.6 147 18.6–­35 182 18.8–­9 119 18.10 147 18.10–­35 155 18.12 176 18.12–­13 176 18.12–­14 45, 47, 147, 172 18.14 43, 145, 147 18.15 136, 147–­48, 151, 180 18.15–­17 147 18.16 180

18.16–­17 18.17 18.18 18.20 18.21

229

147 4, 17 134, 148 148–­49, 183 134–­36, 151, 157 18.21–­22 134 18.21–­35 100, 134, 147 18.23–­27 135–­36 18.23–­35 132–­36, 138–­39, 148–­50, 152–­53, 156 18.25 134 18.26 134, 156 18.27 132, 135, 156, 172 18.28 156 18.28–­30 134, 136, 156 18.29 156 18.30 139, 156 18.31–­34 138 18.33 131–­32, 135–­36, 138 18.34 139 18.35 151, 157 19 181 19.2 49, 144, 146, 171 19.3–­9 87, 93–­94, 166, 180 19.4 34, 63 19.8 87 19.10–­12 181 19.16 123 19.16–­22 27, 88, 130, 180 19.17 79, 88, 123, 125 19.18 83, 129 19.18–­20 130 19.18–­19 27, 78, 95, 101, 123–­26, 129, 160 19.19 83, 101, 125–­26, 154 19.19–­21 160 19.20 125

230

Index of Ancient Sources

19.21 88, 125, 155 19.22 125 19.23 89 19.23–­25 125 20.1–­15 12 20.1–­16 181 20.17–­19 181 20.23 26, 79 20.25–­28 181 20.28 148, 182 20.29–­34 50, 132, 143, 171 20.30 40, 49, 132, 143–­44, 146 20.30–­31 70 20.31 40, 49, 132, 143–­44, 146 20.34 132, 146 21 57, 175 21–­23 7, 96 21.1–­25.46 7 21.1–­7 175 21.4–­5 47, 77, 102 21.1–­17 174–­75 21.5 50, 155, 175 21.9 11, 40, 49–­50, 68, 70, 175 21.9–­11 11, 175 21.12–­13 175 21.14 49–­50, 56, 144 21.14–­15 50, 56 21.14–­16 175 21.15 40, 49–­50, 70 21.15–­16 46, 171 21.16 175 21.23–­27 67 21.25 67 21.28–­32 12, 66 21.28–­22.14 66 21.31–­32 17 21.32 61, 65–­67, 78 21.33 12–­13 21.33–­46 12, 46, 66 21.37 71 21.37–­42 46

21.42 34 21.43 7, 12–­14 22.1–­10 66 22.2 71 22.11–­14 152 22.15 95 22.15–­22 96 22.15–­40 95, 180 22.18 47 22.34–­40 75, 83, 93–­94, 97, 125, 154, 156, 160, 166 22.35 95–­96 22.36 25, 79 22.37 16 22.37–­38 97 22.37–­40 78 22.38 79 22.38–­39 111 22.39 101, 124 22.40 77, 79, 95, 97, 125, 153, 167 22.41–­46 40 22.42 40–­41 22.43 7, 37, 41 22.44 41, 46 22.45 37, 40–­41 23 8, 99, 180 23.1 180 23.4 98, 166 23.5 115 23.8 151, 165 23.8–­12 97 23.10 78, 165 23.13 47, 98 23.15 47 23.16 47, 50, 94, 128 23.17 50, 128 23.19 50 23.23 25, 47, 80, 94, 97, 103, 125, 132, 153–­54, 156, 158, 160, 167 23.24 47, 50, 94, 128



Index of Ancient Sources

23.25 47 23.25–­26 75, 161 23.26 50, 128 23.27 47 23.29 47 23.32 64 23.34 3–­5, 8, 177 23.34–­35 64 23.34–­36 173 23.35 64 23.37 11 23.39 74 24.9 17 24.9–­14 18 24.20 75, 91, 101, 161 24.32–­25.30 151–­52 24.32 179 24.34–­35 78 25 150 25.29 13 25.31 150 25.31–­46 133, 137, 149–­53, 158 25.32 150 25.34 150, 153, 158 25.35–­36 155 25.37–­39 150 25.40 x, 138, 150–­51, 152–­53, 158 25.41–­45 152 25.44 150 25.45 138, 150–­51, 152–­53 26–­27 70–­71 26.4 64 26.5 10 26.12 115 26.26–­28 62 26.28 30, 43, 66, 72, 139, 148, 182–­83 26.29 74 26.31 47 26.36–­46 69 26.39 69, 183

231

26.42 69, 183 26.47–­56 69 26.52–­54 69 26.54 29 26.56 29 26.59 64 26.59–­61 64 26.59–­66 64 26.61 64, 69 26.63–­64 71 26.64 30, 46, 74 26.69–­75 135 27.4 64 27.9 77, 102 27.9–­10 47 27.11 50 27.18 64 27.19 64 27.20 12 27.24–­25 7 27.25 10–­12 27.29 50 27.37 50, 182 27.39–­40 69 27.39–­43 183 27.40 70 27.41–­43 69 27.42 50 27.51–­53 30, 70 27.51–­54 70 27.54 70 27.64 10 28 8 28.10 151 28.11–­15 6, 53 28.16–­20 6, 9, 17, 29, 31, 46, 53, 71, 135 28.18 30, 46 28.18–­20 2, 16, 19, 30, 182 28.19 6–­9, 19, 27, 35, 52, 71 28.19–­20 8, 18–­19, 160 28.20 102, 160

232

Index of Ancient Sources

Mark 1.2 66 1.4 65–­66 1.5 66 1.9 59 1.9–­11 60 1.10–­11 39 1.11 39, 72 1.34 144, 172 1.39 3 1.41 144 2.1–­12 44 2.13 149 2.25–­26 37, 142 3.10 144, 172 3.15 45 5.1–­20 92 5.11 92 5.18–­20 132, 144 5.19 132, 144 5.22 4 6.7 45 6.13 45 6.34 49, 145, 171 6.52 69 7.6 129 7.6–­7 91 7.8–­9 91 7.10 84, 128 7.15 92, 127, 129 7.18 92, 129 7.18–­19 127 7.19 92–­93, 103, 129 7.20 129 7.21 129 7.23 103 7.24 52 7.26 52 7.31–­37 172 8.2 146 8.34 181 9.11–­13 181 9.33–­37 181 9.42–­47 181 9.43–­47 119 10.1 49, 144,

146, 171 10.2–­12 181 10.11–­12 181 10.19 124, 129 10.21 125–­26 10.23–­31 181 10.38 72 10.42–­45 181 10.46–­52 54 10.47 37, 40, 49, 132, 143 10.48 40, 132, 143 10.52 146 11.9 49 11.9–­10 37 12.28 95 12.28–­34 94–­95 12.29 111 12.31 111 12.32 95 12.33 95 12.34 95 12.35 40 12.35–­37 37, 40 12.36 37 12.37 37, 40 13.28 179 Luke 1.27 37 1.32 37 1.68–­79 37 1.69 38 2.4 37–­38, 43 2.11 38 5.13 144 6.3–­4 37 6.20–­23 154 6.27–­35 131 6.31 164 6.35 169 6.36 131, 136 9.1 45 10.7–­8 92 10.21–­22 161 10.25 95–­96 10.25–­28 95



Index of Ancient Sources

Q

10.29–­37 95, 133 10.33 133 11.14 50 11.42 80 11.49 177 12.31 64 12.50 72 15.4 176 17.3 134 17.4 134 20.42 37 20.44 37

3.7–­9 65 6.20–­23 154–­55 6.35 155 6.36 131 7.18–­23 54–­55 11.14 50 12.31 64 12.58–­59 113 17.3–­4 134 Acts 1.16 37 2.25–­31 37 2.34–­35 37 4.25–­26 37 7.45–­46 37 9.2 5 13–­14 24 13.22 37 13.23 38 13.34–­37 37 15 23 15.10 164 15.16–­18 38 15.20 27 15.29 27 21.25 27 22.3 21 26.4–­5 22 Romans 1.3–­4 9, 38–­39 2.4 169 4.6 37 8.4 76

233

11.9 37 11.22 169 13.8 76 13.9 123 1 Corinthians 7.18 20 7.19 28 Galatians 2.1–­10 23 2.7 23 2.11–­14 22–­23 5.1 164, 168 5.14 76 6.2 76 Ephesians 2.7 169 Colossians 3.8 112 1 Thessalonians 4.3–­5 117 4.5 17 1 Timothy 6.1 168 2 Timothy 2.8 38 Titus 3.4 169 Hebrews 4.7 37 6.1–­2 19 11.32 37 James 1.19–­20 112 1.20 65 1.22–­25 137 2.11 123 2.12 137 2.13 137 2.14–­26 137 4.11–­12 148 5.11 137 5.12 81, 121–­22 1 Peter 2.3 169 3.13–­17 63 3.14 63

234

Index of Ancient Sources

1 John 3.15 110 Revelation 3.7 38 5.5 38 14.13 175–­76 22.16 38

2. Early Jewish Writings

2.1 Philo of Alexandria De agricultura (Agr.) 44 47 De decalogo (Decal.) 18–­19 128 19 108 65 95 82–­95 121 84 123 92 123 106 124 107 124 121 117 121–­131 117 122 117 157 121 168 110 168–­169 110, 116 170 109 De fuga et inventione (Fug.) 139 62 Hypothetica (Hypoth.) 7.1 119 7.11–­14 84 De Iosepho (Ios.) 43–­44 118 198 170 Legatio ad Gaium (Legat.) 67 170 73 170 132–­138 4 156–­157 4 De migratione Abrahami (Migr.) 89–­93 5, 20

De vita Mosis (Mos.) 1.249 170 1.294–­301 117 2.279 174 De praemiis et poenis (Praem.) 83 76 166 169 Quod omnis probus liber sit (Prob.) 81 5 Questiones et solutiones in Exodum (QE) 2.2 21 De specialibus legibus (Spec.) 2.2–­38 121 2.61–­63 84 2.63 95 2.104 170 2.224 122–­23 2.5 122 2.50 110 2.63 95 3.8–­82 116–­17 3.11 119 3.37–­42 110 3.64 118 3.83–­209 109 3.92 110 3.104 110 3.104–­107 110 3.169–­177 109 3.174 109 3.204 109 De virtutibus (Virt.) 34–­41 117 58 47 79 62 97 170 101 170 109 170 146 170 160 170 219 53



Index of Ancient Sources

2.2 Josephus Against Apion (Ag. Ap.) 2.175 84 2.190 95 2.199 110 2.215 119 Jewish Antiquities (Ant.) 2.140 170 2.157 170 2.159 170 3.89–­90 128 3.91 123 3.91–­92 122 3.274–­275 119 4.129–­132 117 4.280 86 5.315 175 6.294 170 7.43 170 7.184 170 7.391 170 8.46–­49 54 8.86–­87 127 8.213 168 8.297 128 10.164 170 11.144 169 12.398 170 20 24 20.17–­48 21 20.41 21, 28 20.43–­45 21 20.44–­45 28 20.90 169 Jewish War (J.W.) 2.161 117 3.438–­439 112 5.365 168 7.87 168 2.3 Jewish–­Hellenistic Literature Apocalypse of Abraham (Apoc. Ab.) 24.5 110, 116 24.7 110, 116

235

Apocryphon of Ezekiel (Apocr. Ezek.) Frag. 5 56 2 Baruch (2 Bar.) 29.7 55 41.3 164 38.2 164 38.4 164 46.4–­5 164 48.24 164 51.3–­4 164 66.5 20 73.1 176 73.1–­7 176 73.2 55 77.16 164 3 Baruch (3 Bar.) 1.2 12 CPJ (Corpus Papyrorum Judaicarum) 1.153.90–­92 5 2 Enoch (2 En.) 9.1 150 10.5 109 10.5–­6 109 34.1 164, 168 34.2 110 44.1–­2 113, 151 44.3 107–­8 44.5 26, 79 52.1–­6 113 3 Ezra 5.58 169 4 Ezra 7.123 55 7.36 176 7.38 176 7.91 176 7.95 176 8.12 164 8.49 26, 79 8.52 176 8.53 55 10.57 26, 79

236

Index of Ancient Sources

12.31–­34 54, 171 13.25–­38 54, 171 13.49 54, 171 13.54–­55 164 Greek Apocalypse of Ezra (Gk. Apoc. Ezra) 1.12 176 2.21 169 Joseph and Aseneth (Jos. Asen.) 8.8 174 8.9 176 11.10 131, 139 12.15 139 15.7 176 22.13 176 Jubilees 15.33–­34 20 23.26–­31 55 23.30 55 26.34 168 39.5 118 50.12 90 Liber antiquitatum biblicarum (LAB) 11.4–­14 128 18.13–­14 117 28.4 12 30.4 12 32.7 164 44.6 128 60.2–­3 54 60.3 54 Life of Adam and Eve (LAE) 13.5 13 Letter of Aristeas (Let. Aris.) 132 95 139 132 208 136 290 170 Odes of Solomon (Odes Sol.) 11.15 169 Ps.-Philo De Jona 148 117

Pseudo-­Phocylides (Ps.-Phoc.) 3 116 4 109–­10, 112 8 95 16 121 23 150 57–­58 112 57 81, 110 190–­191 110 193–­194 117 213–­214 110 Sibylline Oracles (Sib. Or.) 1.159 169 2.119 109 3.246 76 3.377 81 3.391 168 3.448 168 3.508 168 3.537 168 3.567 168 3.594–­600 110 3.764 110, 116 4.33–­34 110 4.104 168 5.166 110 5.430 110 Testament of Abraham B (T. Ab. B) 10.4–­5 137 Testament of Job (T. Job) 9–­15 150 10.3 150 26.5 132 Testament of Moses (T. Mos.) 8.3 20 Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs T. Ash. 2.5–­7 150 6.3 177 T. Benj. 4.2 156 4.4 150 6.3 81, 118



Index of Ancient Sources

8.2 81, 117–­18 T. Dan 1.3 81 1.3–­4 110, 112 1.7–­8 110, 112 5.12 176 T. Iss. 2.3 118 3.5 117–­18 4.4 117 5.2 96, 150 6.3–­4 139 7.1–­6 118 7.2 81, 117–­18 7.2–­6 118 T. Jud. 14.1 81 17.1 117 19.3 131 22.3 38 24.5 53 T. Levi 13 164 13.5 62 T. Naph. 8.7 76 8.7–­10 164 T. Reu. 3.9–­12 115 3.10–­6.4 81 3.10–­12 117, 120 5.1–­6.4 117 5.3 117 6.1–­3 120 T. Sim. 2.6–­11 110 4.8 81 T. Zeb. 2 133 4.2 133 4.11 110 5.3 137 5.4 133 7.2 132

237

8.1 132, 137 8.1–­3 137 8.4 133 8.6 133 9.7 139

2.4 Qumran CD / Damascus Document 1.20–­21 100 2.15–­16 100 2.16 117 7.19–­21 54, 171 7.20 53 9.2–­8 147, 180 10.20–­21 90 12.23–­13.1 53 14.19 53 19.10–­11 53 20.1 53 20.2 100 20.5 100 20.7 100 1Q28 (1QS) / Community Rule 1.6 117 1.8 100 2.2 100 3.3 100 3.9–­10 100 4.22 100 5.24–­6.1 146, 180 5.25 112 6.24–­7.25 100 8.9 100 8.10 100 8.18 100 8.20 100 8.21 100 8.25 100 9.2 100 9.6 100 9.8 100 9.9 100 9.11 53 9.19 100 10.21 100

238

Index of Ancient Sources

11.2 100 11.17 100 1Q28a (1QSa) / Community Rule 1.17 100 1.28 100 2.12 53 2.14 53 2.20 53 1Q28b (1QSb) 1.2 100 5.20–­21 53 5.20–­22 54 5.22 100 5.24–­29 54, 171 1QH / Hodayot 9[1*].36 100 12[4*].11 63 12[4*].30–­32 100 1Q33 (1QM) / War Scroll 5.1–­2 54, 171 4Q161 8–­10 15, 22 53, 171 8–­10 18–­22 171 8–­10 23, 25–­26 54 4Q174 1i+21+2 (3.)10–­13 38 1i+21+2 [3.]11 53 4Q184 1 13–­14 117 4Q246 2.1 38 4Q252 2–­5 38 5.3 53 5.3–­4 53 4Q285 5 3–­4 53–­54, 171 6+4 54, 171 4Q376 1 3.1–­3 54, 171 4Q403 1 1.22 100 4Q504 2 4.6–­8 43 4Q510

1 1.9 4Q511 63 3.3 4Q521 2 2 2 2.1 4Q525 2 2.3–­4 11Q5 18.12–­14 27.9–­10

100 100 55 53 164 164 54

2.5 Rabbinic Writings Babylonian Talmud b. B. Meş. 58b 110, 112 b. B. Qam. 83–­84 86 b. Sanh. 111b 169 b. Shabb. 133b 136 b. Shabb. 151b 137 b. Sota 47b 169 b. Yoma 67b 110 Der. Er. Rab. 11.15 110, 112 Gen. Rab. on 8.7 137 Jerusalem Talmud y. Ber. 5.9c 136 Lev. Rab. 23 (122b) 118 Mek. Exod. on 15.2 136 Mishnah m. Abot 3.5 164 m. Ber. 2.2 169 m. Shabb. 7.2 90 Sifre Deuteronomium § 49 on 11.22 136 § 96 on 13.18 137 § 323 on 32.29 v.l. 169 Sifre Lev 25.38 169 Tg. Ps.–­Jonathan on Lev 22.28 136 Tosefta t. Sota 14.4 169



Index of Ancient Sources

3. Greek and Roman Literature

Epictetus Dissertationes/Diatribai (Diatr.) 2.18.15–­16 116 Homer Ilias (Il.) 6.187 109 Odyssea (Od.) 3.118–­119 109 16.379 109 16.423 109 Lucian Merc. cond. 13 168 Martial Epigrammata 7.82 20 Musonius Rufus Frag. 8 117 Frag. 12 110 Plutarch Alexander (Alex.) 30.3 170 Antonius (Ant.) 79.2 170 Brutus (Brut.) 22.4 170 Comp. Sol. Publ. 2.2 170 Demetrius (Demetr.) 50.1 170 Dion 47.6 170 Moralia (Mor.) 90B–­C 112 177D 170 823A 170 Phocion (Phoc.) 14.1 170 19.2 170 Pompeius (Pomp.) 75.2 170 Pyrrhus (Pyrrh.) 11.2 170

239

Pseudo-­Plutarch Moralia (Mor.) 850A 170 Pseudo-­Scymnus Ad Nicomedem regem 50–­51 169 Seneca De ira (Ira) 1.1.5 107 1.4.3 112 3.6.1–­2 112 14.5 112

4. Ancient Christianity

Barnabas (Barn.) 19.2 111 1 Clement (1 Clem.) 9.1 169 13.2 137 16.17 178 60.1 169 2 Clement (2 Clem.) 5.5 176 6.7 176 19.1 169 Didache (Did.) 1–­5 27 1–­6 19 1.2 111 1.3 111 2.2 110 2.2–­3 111 2.3 121 3 117 3.1–­6 111 3.2 110–­12 3.2–­3 112 3.2–­6 110–­12 3.3 110, 116, 129 3.4 112 3.5 110 3.6 112, 129 6.2 100, 164 6.2–­3 80 6.3 27

240

Index of Ancient Sources

7 27 7.1 19 Diognetus (Diogn.) 8.8 169 Eusebius Praeparatio evangelica (Praep. ev.) 9.32.1 170 9.33.1 52 9.34.1 170 9.34.4 52

Polycarp To the Philippians (Pol. Phil.) 2.3 137 Shepherd of Hermas Similitudes (Herm. Sim.) V 2.2 12 V 5.2–­3 12 V. 6.2 12 Testament of Solomon (T. Sol.) 1.7 54 20.1 54