Sandwich Storytelling

...While he was saying these things to them, behold! one of the rulers came in and knelt before him, saying, "My daughter has died just now! Nevertheless, come place your hand upon her, and she will live." And Jesus rose and followed him, with his disciples. And behold! a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came near behind him and caught hold of the tassel of his garment, for she said to herself, "If only I just catch hold of his garment, I will be saved." Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, "Have courage, daughter! Your faith has saved you." And the woman was saved from that very moment. And when Jesus came to the ruler's house and saw the flute players and the crowd causing a disturbance, he said, "Go away, for the girl is not dead but sleeping." And they ridiculed him. But when the crowd had been cast out, he went in and grabbed hold of her by the hand; and the girl arose, and this news went out into all that district.  (Matt. 9:18-26)

Matthew 9:18-26 is often described in laymen's terms as a sandwiching story. In the academic arena, this rhetorical pattern is described as intercalation. Intercalation occurs when a distinctive story is intentionally imbedded between another story, thereby causing an interruption in the story. Intercalation frames the beginning and ending of a story in such a way that they both serve as a commentary on the imbedded narrative. In other words, intercalation frames a story in an A--B--A' pattern, leaving the "A" and "A' " framework to function as a commentary upon "B."  This type of rhetorical pattern is actually very common in Scripture, even though it may seem like an unusual method of recording historical events today. And contrary to many liberal accusations of inherent contradictions within the synoptic gospels, rhetorical devices such as intercalation help explain why there are many aesthetic differences (without contradiction) among all three synoptic gospels. 

For example, in the story of the fig tree that Jesus curses and causes to wither away, Mark uses intercalation, whereas Matthew clearly does not. Matthew has Jesus cursing and withering the fig tree as one combined story, followed by Jesus "cleansing" Herod's temple (Matt. 21:18-19). But in using intercalation (an A--B--A' pattern as a commentary upon the central "B" section), Mark interrupts the story of cursing the fig tree with Jesus "cleansing" Herod's Temple before returning to the story about Jesus causing the fig tree to wither away (Mk. 11:12-14 [A]; 15-19 [B]; 20-21 [A']). The cursing and withering of the fig tree serves as a commentary on Jesus' visitation upon the Temple (and it's future destruction in 70A.D.).

Not only does Matthew "sandwich" one miracle between another by splitting the first miracle in two parts, but he also arranges each miracle with a neat symmetrical parallelism (A--B--C--a-a'-b-b'--A'--B'--C'): 

A)  While he was saying these things to them, behold! (idou) one of the rulers (archon) came (erchomai) in and knelt before him, 
   B)  saying, "My daughter has died just now! Nevertheless (alla), come (erchomai) place your hand upon her, and she will live." 
      C)  And Jesus rose (egeiro) and followed him, with his disciples. 

                                                                   * * * * * * *

a)  And behold! (idou) a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came near behind him and caught hold of (apto) the tassel of his garment, 

   a')  for she said to herself, "If only I just catch hold of (apto) his garment, I will be saved." 

b)  Jesus turned, and seeing (eidon) her he said, "Have courage, daughter! Your faith has saved (sozo) you."

   b')  And the woman was saved (sozo) from that very moment. 

                                                                  * * * * * * *

A')  And when Jesus came (erchomai) to the ruler's (archon) house and saw (eidon) the flute players and the crowd causing a disturbance, 
   B')  he said, "Go away, for the girl is not dead but (alla) sleeping." And they ridiculed him. But when the crowd had been cast out, he went in (eis-erchomai) and grabbed hold of her by the hand;
      C')   and the girl arose (eigero), and this news went out into all that district.

Compositional Divergencies

The ESV translation of Matthew 9:18-26 says:

While he was saying these things to them, behold, a ruler came in and knelt before him, saying, "My daughter has just died, but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live." And Jesus rose and followed him, with his disciples. And behold, a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment, for she said to herself, "If I only touch his garment, I will be made well." Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, "Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well." And instantly the woman was made well. And when Jesus came to the ruler's house and saw the flute players and the crowd making commotion, he said, "Go away, for the girl is not dead but sleeping." And they laughed at him. But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl arose. And the report of this went through all that district.

This brief story may be the most difficult to decipher among the ten miracles listed within chapters 8 & 9 of Matthew's gospel. And it's particularly difficult for multiple reasons. First of all, it's difficult because it's describing two miracles in tandem, not simply one isolated miracle. And because multiple shades of meaning and authorial intent can be (and often are) emphasized within each miraculous story, one can easily assume right from the outset that the shades of meaning and authorial intent within a tandem-miracle story are at least twice as complex as those with only a single miracle. To be sure, there are degrees of complexity which vary from story to story -- degrees which can only be determined by deciphering the similarities and contrasts of both miracles side-by-side -- but nonetheless, it is reasonable to assume a much greater complexity of meaning when an author presents two tandem miracles within a single miraculous narrative. Of course, the complexity increases even more when multiple authors describe the same miraculous story in their own words, but in different ways, which is what we have with this miracle story (i.e. Matthew, Mark, and Luke).

Secondarily, the literary picture which Matthew paints for us is very different from what Mark and Luke portray. This ultimately means that the divergencies of Matthew's gospel are going to be more difficult to harmonize with Mark and Luke. For example, in Matthew's gospel, the woman who's been bleeding for 12 years gets a hold of Jesus' attention by simply clinging (ἅπτω)1 to the tassel of his robe (c.f. John 20:17) and nothing more; and then after Jesus turns around to speak directly to her, we find the following declaration: "And instantly the woman was made well" (v. 22). In this way, Matthew is connecting the power of Jesus' words with the power of healing this woman. Instead of repeatedly emphasizing her contact with Jesus -- via a "touch" -- as bringing healing to her (c.f. Mk. 5:27-33 and Lk. 8:44-48), Matthew minimizes an emphasis upon her "touch" in order to maximize the appearance of a small window of hope for her to get Jesus' attention -- to get him to turn around and declare healing words directly to her.  But Mark and Luke both portray the same event differently than Matthew. They both portray the woman suffering from a discharge of blood as though she reached out to Jesus and was healed before He knew who touched him. Mark's gospel says that after she touched Jesus' garment,

...immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my garments?" And his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, 'Who touched me?" And he looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. (Mark 5:27-33) 

Luke's gospel (8:44-48) emphasizes this event in a very similar way, but with an additional note about her hiding among the crowd:

...and immediately her discharge of blood ceased. And Jesus said, "Who was it that touched me?" When all denied it, Peter said, "Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you!" But Jesus said, "Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me."  And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace."

Notice carefully how Mark's story and Luke's story both emphasize her "touch" upon Jesus as bringing physical healing. They both also emphasize that this physical healing occurred before Jesus knew who it was that was just healed by him; whereas if Matthew's story was the only one available to us, we would be left with the impression that Jesus knows exactly who touched her; and it isn't her "touch" that brings physical healing. In Matthew's story, it's the power of Jesus' words which bring healing. And since I'll be discussing more about this in a future post, I'll simply say that this is a very important distinction to make for understanding Matthew's portrayal of this historical event, and leave it at that for now. 

Even though I'm personally persuaded that Matthew is offering his own unique perspective about this event, I'm not going to pretend as though I know how to perfectly harmonize all of these and other divergencies throughout the synoptic gospels. But I am willing to conclude that Matthew is following a different rhetorical convention than Mark and Luke, and he's also painting his word-pictures with a different purpose in mind than Mark and Luke. Sometimes these different purposes are blatantly obvious; sometimes they're extremely subtle. But whether they're obvious or subtle, once they're discovered, all sorts of connections with the larger story are opened to the audience, each with their own invitation to explore even deeper into the theological depths of God's revelation.

For example, once the subtle difference between Matthew's clinging "touch" and Mark & Luke's powerful "touch" is distinguished, the underlying Christology of Mark & Luke becomes that much more apparent. When compared with Matthew's story (Matt. 9:18-26), Mark and Luke both seem to distinguish between Jesus' human and divine nature in order to highlight his divine power, whereas Matthew doesn't show any interest at all in highlighting that kind of distinction (perhaps because his Jewish audience would have already concluded Jesus' divine power from the surrounding context of Jesus' authoritative word). In Mark and Luke, it is through the work of Jesus' divine nature that the woman receives healing by touching Jesus, but in his human nature Jesus is completely ignorant of who touched him when he "perceived that power had gone out from him." Jesus, in his human nature, did not know who touched him, and so Mark describes Jesus as searching the crowds to learn who touched him to receive healing. Matthew's gospel, however, makes no such distinctions because he's interested in continuing the narrative in which he already affirmed Jesus' divine authority to heal and restore Israel.

Last of all, Matthew's narrative (9:18-26) is difficult because it's chronology is very different from Mark and Luke. In the gospels of Mark and Luke, this story takes place immediately after returning from the other side of the Sea of Galilee where Jesus had just cleansed the demon-posessed man, and it also takes place long after Jesus was feasting with his disciples in Matthew's house. But in Matthew's gospel, this chronology of events is reversed. In Matthew's story, the events of 9:18-26 take place long after Jesus returned from cleansing the demon-possessed man, and it also happens while Jesus is feasting with his disciples inside Matthew's house. Notice carefully what the opening words of Matthew's story say:

"While he was saying these things to them, behold, a ruler came in and knelt before him..."  

What were those "things" he "was saying" and who were "they" to whom he said those things? Well, if Matthew wanted his audience to make the connection from one story to another, it's obvious that those "things" refer to Jesus' discussion with the Pharisees and John's disciples -- a discussion which took place during a great feast which Matthew prepared for Jesus and his disciples within his own home. My own conclusion is that this encounter with the "ruler" and the "woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years" did actually begin in Matthew's own home. I don't believe Matthew is generating a fictional narrative here. My main reason for believing that this encounter began in Matthew's home is because Mark and Luke both describe the timing of this event in a more general way than Matthew (c.f. Luke 8:40-41 and Mark 5:21-22). Mark simply lumps two circumstances together. First, Jesus is said to be with a crowd of people by the sea of Galilee. Then Mark mentions very casually that "one of the rulers came to him then." That is hardly a recipe for specificity. And the same is true with Luke's story. Luke simply says that "when Jesus returned" from cleansing the demon-posessed man, a crowd of people welcomed him, and then, shortly thereafter, the "ruler" comes to Jesus, falling down to his feet. Matthew's story is, by far, the clearest statement of where this story takes place. It was "while Jesus was saying these things" in Matthew's house that "behold! a ruler came in and knelt before him..."

When all is said and done, Matthew's own intended meaning and purpose is what needs to be deciphered, and so far, I've only scratched the surface of Matthew's story. So in a future post, I plan on exploring deeper into Matthew 9:18-26.

1.  In John 20:17 we read: "Jesus said to her, 'Do no cling (ἅπτω) to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father." ἅπτω literally means to "fasten" or "attach," which is why the general use of the term means to "hold" or "touch" in a sense which is more than just momentary. ἅπτω does not mean "tap," "poke," or to "brush up against" something because all of those modern terms imply momentary "touches," whereas the "touch" (ἅπτω) of Matthew 9:18-26 and John 20:17 refers to something more than momentary.

Zorro copied Jesus

As I was preparing to teach on Matthew 9:9-17, I ran across a small portion of this passage in an ancient manuscript formally known as the "Gospel of Thomas."  Nowadays the Gospel of Thomas is generally associated with the mystical pseuo-christian religion of gnosticism, but can still be found in many bookstores on the shelves labeled "Christian literature." And as far as I can tell, even though gnosticism never really considered itself to be an officially "Christian" movement anyway, and it actually seems to have grown from the roots of first century mystical Judaism instead, many religious people still consider the Gospel of Thomas as one of the "lost scriptures" that never found it's way into the official canon of Christian "Scripture." But now that we have it, lo and behold, Christians are finally able to understand the gospel message correctly. Or, at least that's what some of those "coexist" web-sites are currently advocating.

Now, for those who know me really well, it won't be a big surprise to find out that I think this "gospel" of Thomas is really, really great. It is a great combination of historical fiction and pseudo-wisdom that's entertaining from beginning to end, kind of like the Apocryphal tale of "Bel and the Dragon." (Go ahead, read that one too. The best part is when Daniel kills the dragon. You'll see what I mean.)  The Gospel of Thomas clearly pretends to be portraying the wisdom of Jesus, even as Bel and the Dragon was with Daniel, but really, it's just another corny piece of religious-fiction. And the portion of wisdom taken straight from the parable within Matthew 9:16-17 and Luke 5:36-39 is a really good illustration of how consistently silly this pseudo-gospel really is. And so, because I thought it was worth sharing, I've included an extract from it. Hopefully I'm not the only one in the world who laughs after reading this:

Jesus said: It is not possible for a man to ride two horses or stretch two bows; and it is not possible for a servant to serve two masters, unless he honors the one and insults the other. No one drinks old wine and immediately desires to drink new wine. And new wine is not poured into old wineskins, lest they burst; nor is old wine poured into a new wineskin, lest it spoil. An old patch is not sewn on a new garment, for a rent would result.1

Now, after reading this again, here's what I'm thinking: Old wine can definitely be poured into a new wineskin, old patches can indeed be sewn on new, unshrunk garments, and as far as we know, Jesus probably could ride two horses and stretch two bows. I mean, come on! Let's be serious! We're talking about the guy who walked on water and then multiplied thousands of loaves of bread. I think we could give him a lot more credit than this. He could probably even stretch two bows while riding two horses at the same time. Everybody familiar with the Bible knows that Zorro probably copied his horseback riding skills from Jesus. And so, this pseudo-Thomas guy isn't really impressing me with his wisdom.

But on a more serious note, some scholars have suggested that the reason why the "old wineskins" and "old patches" have been inverted in their meaning is because the references of "old" and "new" from Jesus' original parable have been allegorized and extrapolated to represent the "old" religion of Judaism, leaving the "new" to represent the spirit-filled movement of gnosticism. Admittedly, this is only an educated guess, and it's an interesting one too; but it goes to show that allegorization was not necessarily intended by every parable spoken by Jesus, any more than his alleged statement about horseback riding and bow hunting. As I explained in a previous post, there is a good reason why not to allegorize the "old" and "new" in the Matthew 9:9-17.

1.  Nag Hammandi Coptic manuscript, Gospel of Thomas, speech #47

Chapter and table division

Modern bibles often insert short little "snip-its" of descriptions within the actual biblical text. For example, consider Matthew 9:9-17. In an updated 2011 edition of the ESV bible, published by Crossway, the words "Jesus Calls Matthew" are inserted directly above the text of Matthew 9:9. The next time a description is inserted, it's above Matthew 9:14, and it says, "A Question About Fasting." Although insertions like these may possibly give someone the impression that Matthew wrote those words too, that's actually not what concerns me. What concerns me about those "snip-it" descriptions is that they definitely do give the impression that Matthew inserted two distinctive units into this portion of chapter nine. Now, as I have noted in an earlier post, chapters 8 & 9 of Matthew were written with an intentional structure, and Matthew 9:9-17 is very clearly one distinctive unit, not two.  And because it is was written as one unit in mind, there is a reason for why it begins and ends the way it does. There is a good reason for why 9:9-17 begins with Jesus calling Matthew and why it ends with patching up torn garments and filling up wineskins. Those were not random details. They were historical and purposeful details. 

Below are two comparisons of the same biblical text. The first is a duplicate of the ESV translation of 9:9-17 as noted above, and the second is the same text, only it's presented as Matthew structured it. And just as you will notice, I have included "snip-its" of description exactly as they are found in the ESV and I have also included my own descriptions within the second translation; but my "snip-its" are not supposed to divide the text (as the ESV appears to have done). My snip-its are there to clarify what ordinarily seems to be a chaotic organization of Matthew's story.

* * * * * * *

Jesus Calls Matthew
As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, "Follow me."  And he rose and followed him.  And as he reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples.  And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?"  But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.  Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.'  For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.


A Question About Fasting  
Then the disciples of John came to him, saying, "Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?"  And Jesus said to them, "Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the groom is with them?  The days will come when the groom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.  No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch tears away from the garment, and a worse tear is made.  Neither is new wine put into old wineskins.  If it is, the skins burst and the wine is spilled and the skins are destroyed. But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved."

* * * * * * *

Prologue

As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, “Follow me.”  And he rose and followed him.  And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples.  

Confrontation at the table (part one):

And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”  But when he heard it, he said:

A)  Those who are well have no need of a physician,

   B)  but those who are sick.

CENTER:  Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ 

A’)  For I came not to call the righteous,

   B’)  but sinners.

Confrontation at the table (part two):

Then the disciples of John came to him, saying, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?”  And Jesus said to them:

A)  The wedding guests cannot mourn, can they,

   B)  as long as the groom is with them?

      C)  But the days will come

   B’)  when the groom is taken away from them,

A’)  and then they will fast.  

Epilogue

C)  No one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment,

   D)  for the patch pulls away from the garment,

      E)  and a worse tear results.  

C’)  Neither is new wine put into old wineskins.

   D’)  otherwise the skins burst and the wine is spilled

      E’)  and the skins are destroyed.

F)  But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved.

* * * * * * *

Perhaps what is most noticeable about this arrangement of Matthew, when examined according to its literary structure, is that the ending doesn't seem so odd anymore. With the ESV division, not only does it appear as though 9:9-17 consist of two distinctive units, but it also appears that Jesus responds to the question about fasting with three different illustrations: a wedding feast, tearing garments, and exploding wineskins. But the two closing illustrations about garments and wineskins were never intended to be part of Jesus' response to John's disciples alone and their question about fasting alone. Instead, it was intended as an epilogue to this narrative interlude. (Luke even goes out of his way to explain that this epilogue was an additional "parable"; Lk. 5:36.) Just as the prologue opened this story to provide a background which captures the reader's interest, Matthew inserted an epilogue to bring closure to this story from a perspective of someone within the story: the perspective of Jesus. This becomes even more evident when the structure is simplified:

A)  Prologue
   B)  Confrontation #1
   B')  Confrontation #2
A')  Epilogue

The prologue is what introduces the background of table fellowship between Jesus some potential disciples within Matthew's home: the "tax collectors and sinners." The two following confrontations (in the center) are also supposed to be illustrations of potential disciples within Matthew's home, but Matthew portrays them as thought they're not really interested in becoming disciples of Jesus. If they were, they would be feasting with "tax collectors and sinners."  Instead, Matthew portrays them as disciples who have come into his home to disrupt table fellowship. They're in Matthew's home not to feast, but to fast, and to question the appropriateness of this great feast. It is only after Jesus and his disciples are challenged by these false disciples that Matthew inserts a brief epilogue that's short and to the point; and it serves a similar purpose as the prologue too. It serves to explain more about the background, more about faithful discipleship, and more about why Jesus and his disciples were gladly feasting with "tax collectors and sinners."

"No one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, do they?"  Who would be that foolish?  For if they did, "the patch pulls away from the garment, and a worse tear results."  In other words, Jesus is feasting with "tax collectors and sinners" to patch old garments together properly. Jesus isn't there to tear things apart; he's feasting in order to patch things together. But just in case that parable wasn't satisfactory enough, Jesus thought it was best to illustrate his point from a different angle. By using a familiar analogy of wine and wineskins, it's as though Jesus is saying: 

No one puts new wine into old wineskins either. That too would be foolish! If you put newly fermenting wine into old wineskins that have already been stretched to the max, they'll explode and you'll lose both the perfectly useful case and the delicious wine inside! Who in their right minds would want to do that?  

If you care about preserving them both, then show that you care. It's common sense, just like it's common sense that new wine needs to be put into new wineskins. The similar principle also applies to sewing patches together the right way. My disciples are sitting here feasting while you snobbishly bicker about your traditions of fasting; and in doing so, you guys are the ones putting new patches of unshrunk cloth on old, torn clothing; you guys are the ones putting new wine in old wineskins; we are the ones preserving both the new wineskins and the new wine by feasting, not fasting.

Two eat, or not two eat: that is the question

In two earlier posts, I discussed the literary structure of Matthew chapters 8 & 9 as well as one of its two distinctive narrative interludes (Matt. 8:18-22).  Those posts can be found here and here.  In this post, I plan on discussing the second narrative interlude (Matt. 9:9-17). 

As noted before, each of those brief narratives describe two types of disciples, and there are no miracles or dramatically divine manifestations which accompany them. Jesus doesn't rebuke the stormy waves of an ocean or resuscitate anyone from death. There is just a very basic message of discipleship with two types of disciples on display in each of them.  But who (or what) are the two types of disciples on display?  Study Matthew 9:9-17 below and decide for yourself.  If there are two types of disciples to be found in this narrative, who or what are they?

As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, "Follow me."  And he rose and followed him.  And as he reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples.  And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?"  But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.  Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.'  For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.  Then the disciples of John came to him, saying, "Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?"  And Jesus said to them, "Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the groom is with them?  The days will come when the groom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.  No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch tears away from the garment, and a worse tear is made.  Neither is new wine put into old wineskins.  If it is, the skins burst and the wine is spilled and the skins are destroyed. But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved."

At first glance, it may seem as though the two types of disciples is this narrative are the Pharisees and the disciples of John.  After all, the Pharisees ask a question, and Jesus responds to their question.  The disciples of John also ask a question, and Jesus responds again.  Therefore, the two types of disciples appear to be the two groups of people who are asking Jesus and his disciples all the questions.  (Be honest, this thought had at least crossed your mind.)  This convenient pairing even suggests that a parallel theme may exist between this and the first narrative interlude of disciples back in Matthew 8:18-22, a parallel theme between one type of disciple who gets rejected by Jesus (the scribe) and one who gets accepted to follow Jesus. Just as the scribe in the first narrative interlude addresses Jesus as "teacher," so the Pharisees in this second narrative  interlude address Jesus as "teacher," which at first glance gives the impression that there is some relationship between the mentality of the scribes and the mentality of the Pharisees. (Interestingly, Mark's account of this story clarifies that "the scribes of the Pharisees" are the ones who oppose Jesus in this second narrative, not simply "the Pharisees"; Mark 2:16.) 

Even though I think there may be a parallel theme between the rejection of a "scribe" in the first narrative and "the Pharisees" in the second narrative, I'm not quite convinced that there is much more of a parallel between the two types of disciples.  After all, Jesus clearly rejects the disciples of John too, whereas the unnamed "disciple" of the first narrative interlude very likely followed Jesus (at least on to the boat, as shown in an earlier post).  This leads me to suspect that the two types of disciples in this narrative are different, and perhaps much more obvious than what first meets the eye.  And behold (!), upon a second look at the text above, there actually are two types of disciples other than the Pharisees and John: one type is "reclining at table" with Jesus and his disciples; the other type is not, because they are fasting.  If we simply follow the way in which this narrative interlude begins, and keep that as the background of the entire discussion, these two types of disciples will become apparent very quickly.  

Notice first that Jesus calls Matthew by saying "Follow me!"  Only a few moments later, we find Matthew hosting a feast with Jesus and his disciples as honored guests.  (Luke's gospel is even more explicit about this "great feast" in Matthew's house; 5:29.)  Previous to this story, the only other times that Jesus said "follow me" to a disciple, were directed at Peter and Andrew together (Matt. 4:18) and to the unnamed disciple who got on the boat with Jesus (8:22). Immediately Matthew is placed alongside those who follow Jesus and feast with his disciples, and all those who "recline at table" with Jesus become associated with Jesus and those disciples who wish to follow him. This idea is made even more explicit when we read that Matthew leaves his day job of tax collecting -- his "tax booth" -- to follow Jesus, which is immediately followed by a feast in Matthew's house along with Jesus and fellow "tax collectors." Notice the sense of alarm which Matthew applies to these potential disciples: "Behold! Many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples."  This then sets the stage for distinguishing the two types of disciples portrayed within this narrative interlude.  There are clearly those who feast with Jesus and his disciples, and there are those who don't.  There are those who wish to follow Jesus, while others maintain no such desire.  In fact, when these two types of disciples are compared side-by-side, Matthew makes it seem as though the ones who don't wish to eat with Jesus are the ones who we are supposed to be the most concerned about.  Although Matthew doesn't come out and say this, it's as though the text is shouting out at us, saying, "Behold! The disciples of the Pharisees and John are not feasting with Jesus! The disciples of the Pharisees1 and John refuse to break their fast!"  In fact, not only do they refuse to break their own fast, they each challenge the validity of table fellowship within Matthew's house. 

Consider the following facts as background information: The Pharisees greatly despised the profession of "tax collectors," but they saved a special disdain for Jews who chose that profession.  The Pharisees viewed such Jews as "unclean," alongside other "sinners."2 And even the term "sinners" did not mean what twenty-first century western Christians generally think it means, namely that those people were generally recognized as sinful. Instead, the term "sinners" was used in a specifically snobbish  way among Pharisees in the first century, and therefore would have been very familiar to Matthew's Jewish audience.3 Pharisees described "sinners" as people below them, people who were considered uneducated in the Torah because they did not adhere "properly" to the Pharisaical food, tithing, and purity laws.4 Not much has changed since the first century. Even in the twenty-first century we find modern pharisees with this same snobbish mentality that opposes "sinners" who smoke, drink, chew, and go with the girls who do too.  Whenever this religiously snobbish mentality pervades a culture, it's hard to avoid it or to not notice it at all. And as Craig Keener points out, this particularly snobbish label was so pervasive in the first century that even rabbis who tolerated "sinners" were considered "sinners" in the eyes of the Pharisees.5 In the eyes of Matthew's Jewish audience, it was understood that these "sinners" communicated uncleanness just as much as "tax collectors" did.  Matthew's Jewish audience would have been able to read between the lines of his story, so to speak, and clearly distinguish between those who were promoting table fellowship with Jesus and those who were attempting to disrupt table fellowship.  

Also, notice carefully that there are two confrontations during this time of table fellowship. The first confrontation is with Jesus' disciples, not Jesus directly, and yet it concerns table fellowship with Jesus.  In a similar manner, the second confrontation is with Jesus directly, but their concern is about table fellowship with Jesus' disciples, not Jesus per se.  And so, collectively, Matthew paints a picture of the Pharisees disrupting fellowship on one end of the table, and the disciples of John disrupting table fellowship on the other end.  While disciples of Christ are feasting, the disciples of antichrist are fasting.  These two types of disciples set the tone for understanding this narrative interlude.  From beginning to end, those who are fasting each have their own axe to grind, whereas Jesus remains confident that they're not the sharpest tools in the shed. Those who refuse to break their own traditions of fasting may look down upon others as "sinners," but they're the ones who are missing out because the Messiah has come to save sinners (Matt. 9:13).  Those who are "well" may simply want to avoid feasting with the unclean in order to prevent further ceremonial defilement; but the Messiah isn't afraid of ceremonial defilement. The Messiah has come to feast with the unclean because it's the unclean who are sick; it's the unclean who acknowledge their need for cleansing.  

The Pharisees would indeed do well to heed Jesus' exhortation to "Go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.'" Sacrificial offerings were a means of cleansing ceremonial defilement. Here, Jesus exhorts them to go and learn what God means when He says His desire is for mercy more than sacrifice. Mercy cleanses far better than the blood of bulls and goats. Mercy heals the sick. Mercy nourishes because it is well fed from all the feasting. Sacrifice, on the other hand, is often just a clever-looking mask of righteousness which covers up the real disease underneath. Sacrifice is often just a pious excuse to continue living sinfully as long as every rite is done in its proper order. And sacrifice could always be found laying on the great table of unhewn stones within Herod's idolatrous temple. Mercy, however, is found reclining at a table of bread and wine within a tax collector's house. 

1.  The "disciples" of the Pharisees are not mentioned explicitly in Matthew's narrative, but it is mentioned explicitly by Mark (2:18) and Luke (5:30, 33). Matthew's narrative certainly implies "disciples" by the plural use of the term "Pharisees," alongside the designation of the "disciples" (plural) of John (singular). By the time of this encounter, John was already in prison (Matt. 4:12), and there was no official title for John's disciples. There was only a general description of whose disciples they believed themselves to be. 

2.  Craig Keener, The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary [Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; 2009] p.292-293 

3.  See Ibid., pp. 294-296; Kenneth E. Bailey, Jacob & the Prodigal: How Jesus Retold Israel's Story [Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press; 2003] pp. 59-63; R.T. France, NICNT: The Gospel of Matthew [Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; 2007] p. 353; D.A. Carson, The Expositor's Bible Commentary: Matthew [Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House; 1984] pp. 224-225

4.  R.T. France, NICNT: The Gospel of Matthew [Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; 2007] p. 353;  Craig Keener, The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary [Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; 2009] pp. 294-295

5.  Craig Keener, The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary [Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; 2009] pp. 294

Jesus heals, the paralyzed man walks. Scribes blaspheme, God is glorified

As I have mentioned in a few earlier posts, chapters 8 & 9 of Matthew's gospel have been arranged in three sections of miracles, each with their own "triad" of miracles (i.e. a set of three connecting miracles). And sandwiched between each triad is a "narrative interlude" (i.e. a connecting story) about discipleship which launches the reader into the next triad. A post about this literary structure can be found here. (If you don't know what I'm describing, I recommend that you take a quick look at that post to see what I mean.) A post about the first narrative interlude can be found here, and some posts about the two following miracles within this central triad can be found here and here. The third and final miracle within this central triad -- Jesus healing a paralyzed man -- is what I will discuss in this post.

I intentionally began this post by pointing back to the literary structure because there is a central theme woven through each miracle story that remains interconnected within each triad. This will be very important to remember as we sort through Matthew's story about the paralytic. If you recall, Matthew launched this central triad of miracles with a narrative interlude which discussed two types of disciples: one was rejected by Jesus, and the other was accepted on a certain condition. Matthew describes the one who got rejected as a "scribe" and the one who was accepted as a "disciple" (Matt. 8:18-22). Immediately afterward, Jesus and his "disciples" get on a boat and head to "the other side" of the Sea of Galilee. Before they get to the other side, "Behold! There arose a great earthquake in the sea, so that the boat was being covered over with waves" (8:24).  Jesus calms the sea and it's waves, but only after he is finished rebuking his disciples for being cowards. He even calls them "Littlefaiths!"

After making it to "the other side" Jesus confronts two demonic-oppressors, and "Behold! They cried out, 'What have you to do with us, O Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?'" (8:29). The demonic-oppressors beg Jesus for permission to flee from them, and again, Jesus unhesitatingly grants them permission. Immediately thereafter we find another startling exclamation made by Matthew: "Behold!" This repeated emphasis is intentional. Each "Behold!" is like a water buoy or a lighthouse in the sense that it serves as a signaling device that leads the reader from one side of the Sea to the other and back again. Notice carefully that after this second emphatic "Behold!" we immediately find the demons fleeing from Jesus into a herd of pigs and down into the sea to drown (8:32). Each "Behold!" is followed by something noteworthy and alarming, something dramatically connected to the lager journey of faith presented from one side of the Sea to the other. But in Matthew's story, this journey of faith & discipleship has not traveled round-trip yet. Jesus is is not back home yet. In fact, he hasn't even got back on the boat again!

What occurs next in Matthew' story is important. After the demons beg Jesus for permission to flee from him, and they are granted their request, this causes the people to panic and alert a bunch of other people from their pagan city. And immediately we read again, "Behold!" This time it's followed by the city people coming out to meet Jesus, and when they see him, they beg him to flee from their country (8:34). And so, Jesus, seeing their faith like that of the demons who just begged for permission to feel from him, decides to leave peacefully. These are the accounts which Matthew highlighted for us as he leads us into the final miracle of this central triad: the miraculous healing of a paralyzed man.

And getting into a boat he [Jesus] crossed over and came to his own city. And Behold!, some people brought to him a paralytic, lying on a bed. And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Have courage, my son! Your sins are forgiven." (Matt. 9:1-2)

This fifth exclamation of "Behold!" is really interesting, especially when compared with the previous four signals. This exclamation is the first positive signal! It's as though Matthew is leading his readers (us) to a reassuringly great faith, the faith of the paralytic and his friends who take the time and effort to bring a man to Jesus. In contrast with the faith of the city people on the other side of the Sea who begged Jesus to flee from them, the faith of these men is exceptional and noteworthy. But it's at this point -- which at first glance appears to be a climactic point in the larger story -- that Matthew has set us up for one more alarming account of great disappointment. Just as the reader is able to envision Jesus' own excitement after seeing "their faith," Matthew glosses over "their faith" and immediately moves on to highlight a long, drawn-out confrontation between Jesus and the Scribes.

I find it fascinating that in both accounts of Mark and Luke, we find a lot of extra details about who was carrying the paralyzed man and how many of them were carrying him, and how long it took them to get into the room where Jesus was, and because the entire house was crowded to the point of impossible access around the home, we learn how much effort these men took to bring a paralyzed friend to Jesus by cutting open the tiles of the roof and slowly lowering the paralyzed man into the house. In Mark and Luke, it is a very dramatic story with a sturdy balance between the faith of the paralytic with his friends and the Scribes with their friends. But in Matthew's account, all we get is a glimpse of great faith. It's heavily unbalanced in it's emphasis. All Matthew says is that "some people brought to him a paralytic, lying on a bed." That's a whopping eleven words! (The Greek only has six words!)  Matthew simply grabs our attention with another "Behold!" and then glosses over "their faith" in order to talk about Jesus' confrontation with the Scribes. This leads me to believe that Matthew's main objective in this brief miracle-story is to illustrate the faith of the Scribes.

...[Jesus] said to the paralytic, "Have courage, my son! Your sins are forgiven." And Behold! Some of the scribes said to themselves...  (Matt. 9:2-3)

At this point, I bet the first century Jewish readers of Matthew's gospel were cringing at the thought of what the scribes might say. I can just picture Jews in the first century, as they were reading Matthew's gospel for the first time, rolling their eyes and thinking to themselves, "Oh no! What kind of snide remarks are they going to say this time?" Can't you picture that too? Especially after Jesus approaches a paralyzed man! Because of various passages woven throughout the scriptures, it is well known that many Jews understood some connection between sin and God's curse upon sin in the form of death, disease, suffering, and physical affliction; but Scribes were notorious for sharing a cynical view about the relationship between physical affliction and God's curse. They probably viewed this paralytic as a man completely and hopelessly cursed by God, whereas Jesus clearly sees him as a man of faith. One can only imagine the fiery distain these scribes were feeling toward Jesus as he spoke comforting words of forgiveness.

...some of the scribes said to themselves, "This man is blaspheming." But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, "Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier, to say, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise and walk'?"  (Matt. 9:3-5)

At first glance, our English translations appear to be pretty cut and dry. Jesus seems to be actively forgiving the paralytic, and the Scribes seem to be defending the honor of God, as they're supposed to. And if you were a faithful follower of the scribes and their teaching, you too could view their thoughts as being faithful. Yet Jesus accuses them publicly as thinking evil thoughts. They accuse Jesus of "blasphemy," but Jesus turns their accusation of "blasphemy" and points it right back at them. Why is Jesus treating them this way? Why is he reacting so abruptly? After all, what is so evil about defending the honor of God, which is what all the disciples of God are supposed to be doing?

There's actually much more going on in Matthew' story, more than what ordinarily meets the eye. The subtlety of Matthew's story is that Jesus does not actively forgive the paralytic's sin. I repeat, in Matthew's account, Jesus is not actively forgiving the paralytic's sin. Jesus is merely speaking comforting words to build up his faith as he lies there paralyzed, and the Scribes assume the worst of what Jesus actually said, as though they knew Jesus' actual thoughts and intentions. They projected upon Jesus what they wanted him to mean. They presumed that Jesus was speaking forgiving words, thereby actively forgiving his sins, when he actually was not. And Matthew illustrates this for us in a variety of ways.

First, notice that Jesus did not command, "Your sins, be forgiven!," nor did he say, "I forgive your sins," "I am forgiving your sins," or even "Your sins shall be forgiven." (And there are actual, ordinary ways of conjugating the Greek verbs in order to make these distinctions, yet Jesus chose to say something entirely different.) Jesus, in fact, spoke somewhat ambiguously.  In Greek, what Jesus chose to say to the paralytic -- in the midst of a crowded house -- could mean both "Your sins are forgiven" and "Your sins are being forgiven." And notice carefully the difference between those two. The first statement, "Your sins are forgiven," is simply a way of indicating a forgiven status which the paralyzed man would naturally perceive as words of comfort. In a more modern setting, this would be like a firefighter declaring words of comfort directly to a father about his children that have already been rescued from a fire. The firefighter could say, "Your children are saved," and there would be no doubt in the father's mind that the firefighter intended to comfort him and remove all doubt in his mind about his children. There would have to be a huge mental blockade in the father's mind for him to interpret the firefighter's words as active saving (i.e. "Your children are being saved," which would actually leave some room for doubt). On the other hand, because the words which Jesus chose to use (and what Matthew chose to record) were somewhat ambiguous, the Scribes interpreted what he said, not as "Your children are saved," but rather, "Your children are being saved." Admittedly, it's difficult to confuse the firefighter's intentions when speaking in English, but that's because the English language is weakly inflective, using mainly the bare form of a verb. However, in Greek all verbs are highly inflective, and so you can convey both meanings ("are forgiven" and "are being forgiven") by only speaking one way, with one inflection; and Jesus chose to speak that one way with one slightly ambiguous inflection: "Your sins are forgiven."

Further examination into the Greek text helps illuminate this conscious decision of Jesus to speak somewhat ambiguously. For example, when Jesus says "Have courage, my son," that is not ambiguous at all in the Greek. That is clearly a command in the Greek text. The same kind of intentional clarity is seen elsewhere in this story. When Jesus asks the scribes which is easier to say, "Your sins are forgiven," or to say, "Rise and walk," the words "Rise and walk!" are clearly commands in Greek, whereas the first saying, "Your sins are forgiven," is again an ambiguous declaration, a mere repeat of the exact same words he spoke to the paralytic. And so, this is Matthew's way of teaching us that Jesus knew what he meant by every single spoken word, and he also recognized that the Scribes interpreted what he spoke in a different way than his own intent. 

And this brings to light why Jesus accused the Scribes of having evil thoughts.  Jesus apparently recognized that they assumed the worst about what he said. Jesus was simply indicating a truth to comfort the paralytic, whereas the scribes interpreted what he said as though he was actively forgiving the cursed paralytic. Their "evil thoughts" are evidenced by their open willingness to scrutinize every word of Jesus, evaluating every detail in the worst possible light. In this light, the scribes are like the barbarians in Acts 28:4 who saw the venomous creature hanging from Paul's hand, and their conclusion was, "No doubt, this man is a murderer, whom, though he has escaped from the sea, yet Justice has not allowed to live." The scribes accuse Jesus of blasphemy because their assumptions seem to have a strong basis in theological fact, just as the barbarians thought their god of Justice was a theological fact.  Now, of course, it would not actually be blasphemy for Jesus to actively forgive sins, as we'll see in a moment. Jesus is most certainly God, and he has the authority to be forgiving any sins at any time as long as it's in line with his Heavenly Father's will. But the scribes are not operating under the assumption that Jesus is God, or even the promised Messiah. They are simply manifesting their unproven assumptions about Jesus as a phony and a fake.  This simple statement of forgiveness is, in their eyes, definitive proof that Jesus is not God or even Godly. For as Luke vividly adds to this account, "Who can forgive sins but God alone?" (Luke 5:21).  And so, this "meek and mild" Jesus (as some liberal softies might say) responds to their thoughts of blasphemy:

"But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins" -- he then said to the paralytic -- "Rise, pick up your bed and go home."  And he rose and went home.   (Matt. 9:6-7)

The Greek text, if extrapolated a bit more, is even more sharp and cutting. Jesus actually says, in effect, "But that you might know from now on that the Son of Man continually has authority on earth in order to forgive sins" -- he then said to the paralytic -- "Be Risen! Pick up your bed and go to your home!"

I can imagine the scribes who challenged Jesus in their hearts, taking a small gulp when Jesus first asked them what was easier to say, "Your sins are forgiven" or "Rise and walk!" They knew that Jesus was challenging their thoughts about the relationship between sin, physical affliction, and God's healing forgiveness. But I bet the scribes took a really big gulp after Jesus followed that first question with one, and only one, ultimatum. Jesus says that they "might" know, but he then leaves them with only one way to show everyone that their knowledge of God is genuinely faithful. They are given a choice to either believe or reject the fact that God has given Jesus authority on earth, from that point forward, to be forgiving sins. Big gulp. And so Jesus commands the man, "Be risen!" And we know how the rest of the story goes. The man rises, picks up his bed, and walks to his house. And "when the crowds saw it, they were afraid, and they glorified God, who had given such authority to men" (Matt. 9:8).

Now, there are a lot of lessons to learn from this true, historical story, only one of which is that disciples of the living and true God should never be characterized as interpreting others in worst possible light. Matthew describes those kinds of disciples as evil.  But we also learn a lot more than this. If we take a few steps back and zoom out a bit, it isn't difficult to see the overall portrait of discipleship, especially as it's highlighted by the faith of 1st century Jewish scribes who were revered as "righteous" in the eyes of many devout Jews. The last time we learned about the faith of scribes was when Jesus began his journey across the sea. And it appears as though Matthew has brought us around full circle on this journey of faith. First there were two disciples who wanted to follow Jesus and get on the boat with him, but the "scribe" gets rejected. Then we find a story about the "little faith" of his disciples, followed by the faith of demons and their corresponding city, followed by the faith of the scribes who accuse Jesus of "blasphemy" for speaking comforting words to a paralyzed man. The faith of the scribes in the end is just as blasphemous as the scribe in the beginning and the demonic faith in between. Their faith in God is just as pretentious and dead as all those who choose not to follow Jesus or are rejected by him. Their faith is worse than the cowardly "Littlefaiths." Their faith is demonic. They want nothing to do with Jesus, just like the demonic-oppressors and the pagan-worshipers on the other side of the sea wanted nothing to do with him. Their faith, if left unchanged, is the faith of a demonic city doomed to rush headlong into a sea of drowning. Their faith brings no healing to Israel because God has not given them the authority which is highly esteemed in His eyes. Rather, He has given them what is highly esteemed in the eyes of dead men. God has not even given these scribes the authority to declare comforting words of forgiveness. Instead, God exposed their false accusations as evil, their pretentious spirit as barbarous, and their skewed presumptions about Jesus' forgiving spirit as His own curse upon them.