Matthew: Chapters 18 to 21

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CHAPTER 18

Jesus tells his followers that the greatest people in the kingdom should act like children.  In fact, he says, “unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”  From that bit, the Medieval Anabaptists will take things literally, sometimes babbling like infants, thinking it’s what Christ wants them to do. 

I’m not sure what Christ means by this.  I guess the key is determining what is meant by the phrase “become like children.”  Should we run around on the playground?  I suppose the key to that is the next sentence when Christ says, “humbles himself like a child.”  A child assumes that the one talking to him knows more than he does.  After all, he’s the kid, and you’re the adult.  So assume that you’re being told the right thing by Jesus, just like a child would when an adult instructs him. 

Christ goes on teaching, going back to some points he made in the Sermon on the Mount.  If your hand causes you to sin, you’d better cut it off.  Your eye, too.  This is serious stuff – and though he doesn’t go there, this can easily (very easily) be taken as a justification for castration.  Hey – if there is one part of your body that has a mind of your own, that’s the one. 

That said, the way Christ phrases it can actually allow for an argument against bodily dismemberment.  Jesus says, “If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut if off and throw it away.”  Aye, but the hand doesn’t cause you to sin. Your mind does; your heart does.  Sin comes from within.  Therefore, you shouldn’t cut off your body parts because that’s not the cause but the effect of sin.  (However, this also means that you can make a castration argument if you want to.  It’s the best argument you can make for cutting off any body part based on what Christ says). 

Christ keeps teaching, and gives us a rough draft of the story of the Prodigal Son.  It’s not about a wayward youth who returns, but a runaway sheep.  If a shepherd has one of 100 sheep run away, he’ll leave the others to look for it, and be so thrilled if he finds it.  So it is with the heavenly father when one of his flock comes back to him.  It’s a nice story letting you know that God, like Motel 6, always leaves the light on for you.

After a nice story, Christ goes back to his harsher side.  If your brother sins, first explain things to him to get him on the right side of God.  If that doesn’t work, take some church leaders and have them talk to him.  If that doesn’t work, then “treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.”  Boy, that tells something about Jewish social life at that time.  “A Gentile or a tax collector”?  The Jews stuck to their own and didn’t like them damn Roman officials.  (Mind you, apostle Matthew is a tax collector).  Christ’s message about Gentiles and tax collector as terms of reprobation only work if: 1) many don’t like hanging out with them, and 2) Jesus buys into this sentiment. 

But here’s the real point: you wouldn’t want to hang out with any tax collector, would you?  No, they stick.  You wouldn’t want to hang out with a Gentile?  No way, not with those guys throwing their foreskins all over the place.  So if you’re brother sins, then you should cut off all contact.  Break up the family.  This is harsh, but it does align with Christ’s earlier teachings about how you must love him more than parents love their kids or kids love their parents. 

Christ keeps going back from harsh to soft and back again in this chapter.   After the bad cop routine noted last paragraph, he ends the chapter acting like good cop.  Rather oddly, this part seems to negate the point of the last section.  Christ gives a parable about a master forgiving a servant – who then turns around and doesn’t forgive a fellow servant.  The point is simple: if you don’t forgive people around you for their misdeeds, then how can you expect God to forgive you?  That’s a nice statement and a good story – but it comes right after he tells everyone to cut off contact with sinful brothers.  Well, which is it?  Cut them off or forgive them?

CHAPTER 19

Christ keeps on with the whole teaching thing.  Hey – it makes better reading than the whole healing thing. 

Now, Christ moves on to divorce, and from there he goes to sexuality in general.  The short version: this chapter goes a long way to explain the current marital/sexual policies of the Catholic Church. 

First, off, divorcees can go fuck themselves.  Marriage makes a man and woman one flesh, and no human must cut off one’s one flesh.  So marriage is permanent.  Once you’re in, you’re in for good.  But Christ’s critics reply: hey, Moses let us divorce, that’s in the Torah, Jesus!  True, Jesus acknowledges, but that’s only because the Hebrew back then were a bunch of fuck ups.  Thus the divorce rule is a rule for fuck ups, not for the true of heart.  In fact, if you marry a divorced woman, you’re committing adultery.  Christ made that last point in the Sermon on the Mount, but he’s explaining it in much more detail here.

Well, Christ’s critics have a nice rejoinder to Jesus: “If that is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry.”  I find that a bit humorous.  Man, if we have no option for divorce, what is the point of getting married?  

Christ’s response is very intriguing: “Not all can accept [this] word, but only those to whom that is granted.  Some are incapable of marriage because they were born so, some because they were made so by others; some, because they have renounced marriage for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever can accept this ought to accept it.”  (Quick note: the “this” in brackets is in my Bible just like that).

So yeah – when people tell Christ they’re better off not even getting married if they can’t divorce – Christ ….COMPLETELY AGREES!  You’re right – getting marriage is just second best!  I knew that St. Paul was a celibate and promoted that way of life, but didn’t know Christ ever said anything like this.  Officially, he isn’t saying that he’s celibate in this reading, but I don’t know how you can read the quote and come away with the notion that he was having sex with anyone.  He is flatly anti-sex. He recognizes that it’s going to happen, and if you need it that badly – fine, get married.  But the best thing to do is abstain.  For life. 

See what I mean about this chapter and Catholic policy?  The church opposes divorce and has a fully celibate priesthood – and it fits this chapter entirely. 

Also, what exactly is Christ’s vision of the kingdom of heaven?  It’s a phrase he uses a lot, but never really defines.  We have a clear image of it now – it’s up above, in the clouds, with the Pearly Gates, where you die.  But here’s the thing – how does that fit with Christ’s promotion of abstinence?  That means you won’t have any kids, after all.  That seems to ruin the point of going to heaven if there are fewer people going there. 

In other words, is the Kingdom of Heaven in the heavens above and a place you’ll go to when you die – or is the Kingdom of Heaven something that’ll come here to earth when God’s reign is returned to earth?  Christ never really defines this.  Please note, in old Jewish tradition the Messiah isn’t someone who dies for our sins. The Messiah is a ruler who will be a new David.  (That’s why it’s important for the lineage at the top of Matthew to make Christ a descendent of David).  Messiah literally means “anointed one” and kings are the ones anointed.  So is the kingdom here or above?  Christ never says, but this celibacy policy seems to make little sense if it’s in the above.  If the kingdom comes to earth soon, then we have less need for new births.  

All of that is just the first half of the chapter.  The last part is the famous story of the rich boy who wants to join the Jesus movement. However, Christ says it’ll be a big hill to climb.  Want to join: “go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.”  Jewish Boy Trump doesn’t want to do this, leading to Christ’s famous statement: “it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” 

A few weeks ago, Pope Francis made a statement decrying trickle down economics, and saying we need more social concern for the poor.  This story here is a central piece of theological backing for that approach.  The Old Testament also has plenty of places calling on us to take care of people, but here you have Christ himself rather flatly decrying materialism.  Sure enough, the Catholic Church has a long-standing tradition of social justice.  It’s easy to see why.  Alternately, I don’t know how Prosperity Gospel sorts square this one away with their pro-materialistic notions.

Christ is very radical in this section. He’s essentially advocating religious communism.  Give up EVERYTHING and then come follow him.  The rich are ineligible for his kingdom of heaven.  Like much of the morals he advocates, it’s too much for almost all people to literally follow.  Right here it would be easy for me to denounce and decry religious sorts who enjoy their own prosperity instead of following what Jesus says here, but that’s not really fair.  After all, this is frankly too high a standard to follow.  Second, religious people really do donate more to charity and those in need than non-religious people do.  Pretty much all churches engage in social activities.  How many secular mass mobilization institutions really do that? 

CHAPTER 20

This is mostly stuff we’ve already gone over.  Christ heals people.  Christ tells his apostles (for the third time and counting) that he’ll be killed and rise on the third day.  There are some disputes when the mother of apostles James and John be allowed to sit next to Christ on Judgment Day.  (Oh, last chapter Christ said that the apostles will sit along him in judgment of all when the time comes).  The other apostles are miffed, but Christ smooths things over.

Aside from that, there is just one really notable part – Christ gives another parable.  He tells of a man who hires workers to spend the day in his vineyard.  Some he hires early, some mid-day, some late.  But he pays them all the same, a full day’s wages.  The guys who worked all day are miffed – we did it all day, you jerk!  But the point of the story: you all agreed to follow my ways for the given reward, so you’re complaints are for naught. God can reward those who come to him early, midway, and late the same if he wants.  It’s his kingdom of heaven, it’s his world – he can give rewards as he likes. 

It’s not one of Christ’s best analogies.  He makes God look capricious instead of merciful.  When God gives out his rewards, he comes off like some arrogant boss – “am I not free to do as I wish with my own money” (that’s an actual quote from the Bible on this score) – than something divine.  The problem is that wages are supposed to be reciprocal based on work, and God is going against that here.  The heavenly reward doesn’t come off reciprocal, if you think about it.  Be good and you’ll experience eternal salvation in paradise.  Man, that’s a reward so awesome that none of us have really earned it. 

CHAPTER 21

OK, we’re headed toward the final act – Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem.  And, as often is the case in the Gospel According to Matthew, that means we’ve got to fulfill a prophecy.  An old prophecy foretells that, “Behold, your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a colt” so the apostles gather up a colt and a donkey.  They put their cloaks over the top of them so Christ can ride them both into Jerusalem.  (Basically, they use the cloaks to connect them and Christ rides over the connection). 

Yeah, Matthew – you’re trying too hard here.  This is just silly, having a guy entering town on cloaks going over two different animals.  Heck, they have to borrow a colt just for the process.  Even worse, the footnotes tell me that the prophecy is a combination of two prophets.  Even worser, the footnotes say that in traditional prophecy, the words colt and ass can refer to the same animal.  So this elaborate oddity is actually based on a misinterpretation.  You have to admit – the prophecy wouldn’t make much sense if it meant too animals.  But taken altogether – yeah, the Christ crowd is trying too hard here. 

We’re told that when Jesus hits Jerusalem the “city was shaken” and wanted to know who he was.  I just find that unlikely.  Forget the silly entrance he’s making riding cloaks atop two different animals.  Let’s assume he got off that unlikely contraption soon.  Still, this is Jerusalem.  Jesus so far has been a big hit out in the sticks – but this is the big city, baby.  They’re not going to be too easily impressed.  It would be like the biggest band from Maine goes to New York City to make it big and everyone is awe of them just for showing up.  Yeah, maybe once they get to know you they’ll be impressed, but they’re not going to be shaken just by your very presence.  He ain’t the first big fish from a small pond to hit the big city. Please note, the people don’t just shake when they see Christ, they ask, “who is this?”  They don’t even know who he is or anything about him – there is really no reason for them to be so impressed.  He hasn’t said or done anything yet, except ride into down rather awkwardly.

Christ’s first action is one of his most famous – he takes on the moneychangers.  I know a little about this, but my memory is shaky.  Apparently, this isn’t just straight up bartering.  I think that in order to offer sacrifices in the temple, you needed a special currency or token or something – and you had to change it outside the temple.  Look, I’m fuzzy on the specifics (sorry), but this isn’t just guys selling roosters and playing cards, and knick-knacks, there is some sort of actual connection to the temple.  But Christ, the poor rube from Nazareth, is apparently unfamiliar – and on sight, it does look like a crass commercial exchange. 

“My house shall be a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of thieves.”  Oh, that’s where the line “den of thieves” comes from.  Good line, Jesus.  Also – calling it “my house” is a little dangerous. So far, he’s just told his apostles his secret identity as the Son of God.  Publicly using first person possessive with the Temple is a bit careless on his part. 

Oh, and he overturns the moneychangers tables.  Again, from what I know from reading some Biblical scholarships, the whole moneychanger set up is pretty freaking big (acres?  Sorry, I really wished I remembered this part better).  He couldn’t have turned them all over.  He might have gotten a few, but much of the exchanges would’ve gone on just the same.

Christ leaves Jerusalem.  That’s probably for the best.  One the way back the next day though, he does something very strange. He sees a fig tree without any figs, and he curses it, telling it to die, essentially.  It dies.  Neat trick – but frankly a dick move.  I mean – the hell?  He’s the Son of God, he’s the Messiah, he’s the savior of all humanity – and here is he picking fights with …..a tree?  Does that sound off to anyone else?  I dunno, I guess he’s just really stressed. 

When Christ comes back to Jerusalem, the priests have a debate for him.  What authority do you have to do your teaching?  They’re hoping to make Jesus say he’s the Messiah so they can arrest him. 

It doesn’t take.  Christ completely big times them.  He tells them, “I shall ask you one question, and if you answer it for me, then I shall tell you by what authority I do these things.”  Yeah, that’s totally big timing them.  They asked him first, but he demands they answer him first – or they can go blow.  Frankly, they should’ve tried the more abrasive, confrontational approach.  Maybe it would’ve worked better, like it’ll work for Christ here.

At any rate, Christ’s question is: what authority did John have when he baptized people?  Was it divine authority or human?

The priests huddle. Look, if we say divine authority, he’ll nail us for not believing in the Baptist.  But if we say human authority, then all his supporters will be upset with us – and we fear those weirdoes. So the priests refuse to answer.

OK, time out.  First, why are they so afraid of the crowd thinking that they didn’t like the Baptist.  Shouldn’t everyone already know that?  The Baptist was thrown in jail a ways back and executed – and nothing has happened.  This book makes it sound like people are so enthralled with the Baptist that you don’t dare say anything bad about him – but he was arrested and killed with no real consequence.  Clearly, it couldn’t have been that big a deal.  Also, how big a deal was John in Jerusalem.  He was with the rubes in the North.  He ate locusts and honey by the River Jordan.  Why in heck are the streets of Jerusalem apparently teaming with his followers?   Also, if John the Baptist really was all that, shouldn’t some people know who Christ is then before he arrived? 

The level of John’s fame and support seems like a plot contrivance. 

Well, it’s a good plot contrivance because the priests refuse to answer Christ’s question. OK then, Christ says – I won’t tell you what authority I have either.  That’s a mighty impressive big timing.  Here they are, the big priests in the big temple in the big city, and the new kid from the north just airily dismisses them.  They’re just lucky they weren’t walking around with fig-less fig trees. 

Christ ends things with some parables that are designed to insult the priestly class as a bunch of worthless hypocrites.  The first one says that they are worse than whores and tax collectors (again, tax collectors really take a beating here).  They say they’re for God, but then they ignore God – just like they ignored John the Baptist.  Man, John the Baptist really means a ton to Christ.  The second parable means that the priests are a bunch of self-serving murderers; they are tenants on God’s land they’ll kill God’s servants and even his son (spoiler!) to keep their own position and take God’s wealth for themselves.  

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Matthew: Chapters 14 to 17

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CHAPTER 14

It surprises me how this book keeps going back to John the Baptist.  I figured he’d been arrested, jailed, and beheaded all in short order. Nope.  He was arrested early on, we hear from him again later on, and now – halfway through the gospel – he finally loses his head. 

It’s a famous story.  Degenerate king promises the daughter of his half-brother anything she wants because a dance of hers “delighted Herod so much.”  What kind of dance does a girl do that delights a man that much?  Not the sort of dance you’re supposed to do for your uncle, that’s for sure.  Well, she demands the head of John the Baptist.  It’s not really clear why she wants this.  The whole story here is a little unwritten.  It’s mostly done to make Herod (not the same Herod that killed all those infants at the top of the Gospel; his kid) and his whole family look like horrible degenerates.  Mission accomplished.

The king doesn’t really want to kill John the Baptist because it will anger the people.  So many people think he’s the Messiah, after all.  But, well, he gave his word to the dancer.  And despite being a murderous, degenerate overlord – he’s still a man of his word.  At least when giving his word to a dancer who delights him so much. 

Actually, why does John the Baptist still have such a strong following?  Shouldn’t they have shifted to Christ by now?   This story would actually work better if it came earlier in the gospel for just that reason.  Also – why are the authorities so skittish about killing John the Baptist when later on they’re so willing to kill Jesus?  One guy they don’t want to kill because some people think he’s the Messiah, and other guy they want to kill because people think he’s the Messiah.  It sounds like John the Baptist has quite the loyal following – but later the masses will call for Christ’s death.  (Note: I don’t know how much of this comes from Matthew or other Gospels).  Still, it seems like Christ should’ve paid more attention to how the Baptist avoided angering the powers that be.  Then again, as I wrote that sentence, I realize, “Avoided angering the powers that be?  They freaking executed John!”   Maybe I’m really overdoing this difference between the two, but it does seem like Christ has more enemies.  Eh, I guess it's because he did more denouncing of the Pharisees while John hung out by the river dunking people.  (John also denounced the Pharisees, but he seemed less political about it.  I guess).

After his death, a few famous miracles happen.  Jesus feeds 5,000 men (and unnumbered women and kids) with five loaves of bread and two fish.  Then he walks on water during a storm.  Those are pretty impressive, but I don’t have much to say about them.  OK – he does miracles.  Duly noted.

Oh, and a VERY BIG THING happens after Christ walks on water – his apostles flatly say he must be the Son of God.  This is a first.  We’ve been gradually hedging in that direction ever since Christ left Satan behind in the desert, but this is the first time since Christ began his ministry that anyone has explicitly said that about him.  (And please note:  it wasn’t Christ himself, just his followers).

CHAPTER 15

The Pharisees hate Jesus Christ, part 278.  This time, they get on Christ for a reason that actually makes sense.  Christ’s posse doesn’t always wash their hands before they eat.  That’s unclean – literally and Biblically.  Chris brushes off the substance of their comment with a zinger comeback: “It is not what enters one’s mouth that defiles that person, but what comes out of the mouth is what defiles one.”  ZING!  Yeah, in general that makes sense – but there is something to be said for being sanitary, J.C.  Bacteria can actually defile, too.  More importantly, this foreshadows St. Peter’s eventual vision of pork chops in Acts of the Apostles that’ll allow the early Christians to convert Gentiles without requiring circumcision. 

Christ follows this up with a parable for his apostles, and when Peter doesn’t quite get it, Jesus is annoyed.  “Are even you still without understanding?”  Jeez, Pete – I’d expect the dumb apostles to be slow, but shouldn’t you start figuring these things out.  This is the development of another theme.  Jesus loves talking in parables, and while early on he has no problem explaining them, as he goes on he becomes increasingly ticked off when people don’t get it.  That isn’t really fair.  Parables, by their very nature, are open to various interpretations.  Christ expects people to follow the flow of his mind after a while, and that’s not fair.  Or he thinks there is just one possible interpretation, which just ain’t right.

Next comes an interesting little story about the relationship between Christ and non-Jews.  A Canaanite woman asks for help, and Jesus initially blows her off, exclaiming that he’s only here to help the Jews.  For a religion that will eventually do much better with non-Jews, that’s a very interesting statement – but it does remind us that Christ himself focused entirely on the children of Israel.  However, when she shows strong faith in him, Jesus heals her daughter, to the delight of Ms. Canaan.  So even though Christ is here for the Jews, he’ll still help out non-Jews who are strong in faith.  I think we just learned a little bit about how Matthew is writing for.  I know that Luke is supposed to be the most anti-Semitic of the gospels.  Matthew seems to have some mixed feelings on how Christ related to the Jews. 

Can I point out one thing here really quick?   It’s one way that the gospels come in stark contrast to the later parts of the Old Testament: there are so many miracles going on.  Sure, there are plenty of miracles in the Old Testament, but they are all in the distant past.  There last great miracle if Elijah versus the priests of Baal.  The last miracle of any sort is Isaiah moving the sun’s shadow by 10 minutes or so on the sundial.  That’s around 700 BC.  (Well, OK – there are the Daniel stories, but the Bible doesn’t really put it with the histories.   Even still, those miracles occurred around 500 BC or so).  After that, God moves behind the scenes. 

Then comes Jesus and you can’t go more than a half-dozen verses without getting smacked upside the head within a few miracles.  He completely comes out of nowhere with this stuff.  You wonder why everyone did flock to him instead of rejecting him.  (Well, as a non-believer, I have my standard answer – this stuff is myth, not history.  Maybe there was some faith healing, but no 7,000 people fed with a bit of bread and fish. No water walking.  And so on). But my point here isn’t to query the veracity of the stories.  The issue here is what a massive, marked change this is from all that came before.

Oh, and the chapter ends with Christ recycling one of his own miracles.  This time he feds a few thousand with hardly any food.  That’s the second straight chapter he’s done that in.

CHAPTER 16

You know how we should gather that this whole Christ movement is really starting to gather steam? Simple – now the Sadducees show up.  So far Christ’s problems have been with the Pharisees.  While they are enforcers and sticklers for every petty rule (don’t heal that man on a Sabbath!) the Sadducees are the real powers.  So if the Pharisees are getting the Sadducees involved, that means things are getting a little trickier for Christ.

And the Sadducees don’t just show up to chit-chat with Christ.  They make a demand/request for Christ: give us a sign.  If you really are all that and a bag of hammers, Jesus, give us a sign to prove it.  Jesus says the same thing he said earlier when asked to provide proof for who he is.  He says you can’t demand proof: “An evil and unfaithful generation seeks a sign.”  Get bent, Pharisees.  You too, Sadducees. 

Christ tries to talk some more parables with his apostles, but they again ask for an explanation, and Christ unloads on them for being dummies. 

That said, Jesus he keeps them around and quizzes them.  Today’s pop quiz: Name That Son of Man?  Guys, any idea who it is?   “Some say John the Baptist” one of them says, “Others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”  OK, a few things about that guess.  First, lame effort with the passive voice “Some say” stuff.  What do you say – not what some say?  Second – hey, way to go Jeremiah!  In his own lifetime he was the most hated prophet of all time, now he’s in the running for messiah.  Not bad!  He sure is more likeable now that he’s dead and not actually around to antagonize people.  Third – c’mon, unnamed disciple.  You’ve seen Christ perform all of these miracles and he’s asking you directly.  This is what you say?  I guess the exclamation after Christ walked on water was said in the heat of the moment rather than anything actually thought out. 

To be fair, it really is quite a leap to flatly say “You’re God” to a man’s face like that.  It would be easier to say in the heat of the moment.  Jesus hasn’t said this about himself yet and a little while ago, is he really going to trust you now with such a big bit of info?

But one apostle figures it out: Peter.  Christ gives him the big reward – and utters a few sentences that go a long way towards justifying the future structure of Christian religion.  “you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.  I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.”  Ladies and gentlemen – it’s the part that justifies the structure of the Roman Catholic Church!  By traditional accounts, Peter will go to Rome and set up the first Christian Church there.  That makes him the first Pope, and all following Popes are his successors – the keepers to the keys of the heavenly kingdom.

I knew this was in here, but I didn’t realize how strong the statement was.  I thought it was just some throwaway line about “upon this rock I will build my church” but it’s much more explicit than that. I didn’t realize that this is where talk of keeping the keys to the kingdom of heaven comes from. 

Now that Christ is open with his disciples about his divine nature, it’s time to let them know how this will all play out. He’ll have to go to Jerusalem, suffer, be killed, and then rise from the dead on the third day.  Clearly, our author Matthew isn’t a suspense writer – he keeps telling us several chapters in advance what’ll happen.  Then again, Matthew isn’t trying to be just some potboiler suspense novel. 

Peter is horrified by the news and begs Jesus not to do this.  Christ replies with a lightning fast mood swing, “Get behind me, Satan!  You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”  Man, just 23 seconds ago he was making Peter the key master and gatekeeper all in one, and now he’s got Peter in league with Zuul.  Less fish and loaves for the Messiah, and more Prozac.

CHAPTER 17

Much of this chapter is recovering previously covered ground.  Christ heals people. (The boy Christ heels is a lunatic.  His father complains that he falls into fire and into water.  Maybe he’s just a klutz).  Jesus also tells his followers that he’ll be killed, but rise on the third day. 

One new thing happens.  Jesus takes his inner circle apostles up to a mountain, where Moses and Elijah appeared and God flatly says that Jesus is his son.  The disciples all but wet their pants at this scene (I was reminded of the moment in Monty Python and the Holy Grail when God speaks to Arthur’n’friends).  Oh, and it turns out that John the Baptist was Elijah returned.  That’s been alluded to previously, but now it’s been made clear. 

Quick thought on John the Baptist.  He comes off like a really big deal in his own right – the authorities are afraid of his followers, Christ is influenced by him, and some think he’s Elijah or the Messiah – but I wonder how big he really was.  I’m sure he was a to-do, but could he really have been an Elijah-level figure?  I doubt that.  There hadn’t been anyone like Elijah since, well, Elijah – 800 years ago or so. And we only know of the Baptist because of Christ, not because of himself.  My hunch is that the Baptist was just the big fish in a small pond.  He was a big area in his small neck of the wood in rural, hick country Judah, and people started comparing him to great names from the past, because that’s what people do.  It’s like every time there is a great sporting event or whatever, it’s hailed as One of the Greatest Ever – and then forgotten about a few years later when the next Greatest Ever comes around.

The end of the chapter is a weird story about paying the temple tax.  When it began, I thought, “Oh, here is where we get `rend unto Caesar’ right?”  Nope.  It’s just something about paying the tax with some allegorical meaning about Christ’s status or something.  I couldn’t quite figure it out.

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Matthew: Chapters 9 to 13

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CHAPTER 9

Christ heals a paralytic, and notes that, “the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.”  This is where we first start seeing Christ make statements about himself, that he’s more than just some wise man or some healer.  It’s a very vague statement (it comes from Ezekiel) but we’ll keep getting more and more towards the question of his divine nature as we go along.  If you think about it, for most people around him, Christ is just a wise healer who himself seems to be a discipline of John the Baptist. 

Christ calls a new apostle, Matthew the tax collector.  That makes five apostles called.  Fun fact: those are the only apostles we see Christ call in the Gospel According to Matthew.  The others will all get mentioned, but only five are called in this gospel.  The first four are called because they were the first, and the book wants to show that his movement has begun. 

Matthew’s call is represented because it’s controversial.  After taking in the tax collector, Christ sits with him and other tax collectors and sinners.  I like how they’re paralleling tax collectors and sinners, like they’re all the same thing.  Anyhow, the Pharisees denounce Christ for hanging out with a bad crowd.  Christ is nonplussed – sure I hang out with sinners.  They are the ones who need me.  Take that, Pharisees!  (I’ll also point out that more than a few of the most vocal Christians nowadays act just like the Pharisees in this story and not like Christ). 

The Pharisees have more problems with the Christ Gang.  For example, they don’t fast.  Why should we, Christ says, would wedding guests fast when with the groom?  I won’t be here long, so people should celebrate while I’m here.  Well, that is the first inkling that Christ won’t live a long life in this realm. 

Right after that, comes a bunch of healings.  And it really is right after that.  One thing I notice – oftentimes in Matthew events are portrayed as happening immediately after one another.  There is no lag time between them.  Coming off the mountain after the Sermon on the Mount, he’s approached by someone wanting to be cured last chapter.  Here, Matthew tells us that as Christ is explaining why he doesn’t fast, a woman approaches him to heal her dead daughter.  It’s a mini-Lazarus story, one where it’s a little less clear if the woman actually died or not.  There are mourners outside, but Christ insists that the dead girl is just asleep, and commands her to awake.  She was probably dead – but Jesus specifically said she wasn’t, instead of taking credit for raising her from the dead.

After that, Matthew notes that “as Jesus passed on from there” – as he’s walking away from the non-dead daughter, he’s approached by two blind men.  Again, one event happens IMMEDIATELY after the other.  Christ cures them and tells them to shut up about it, but they blab about it all over town.  Then Christ healed a bunch more people.

CHAPTER 10

The first word in this chapter is “Then.”  Again – Matthew wants to give us a sense that all of these things are happening right after each other, it seems.  “Then” doesn’t indicate much passage of time. 

Anyhow, apparently Christ now has a full compliment of apostles – a dozen.  (One for each of the old tribes of Israel).  Christ gives them (and yes, they are named) marching orders.  The first one: don’t go into pagan territory.  That’s interesting, because his religion will later flourish there and be rejected among the Jews.  That’s a key difference between the religion of Christ and the eventual Christian religion. 

Christ tells them to cure people, help people – but don’t accept any payment.  “The laborer deserves his keep.”  Travel light and stay with good people in each village you come to.  Beware, though – people will try to persecute you. 

The Gospel of Matthew is silent as to why people would want to persecute them.  It’s just taken as a given.  I assume it’s related to why Christ tells people he cures to shut up about it.  He doesn’t want the authorities to know who he really is if he can help it.  He’s coming to minister to Jews – and he seems to have no problem with ordinary Jews – but he is also a disruptive influence.  And people in power don’t like things that shake up the old status quo.

But Christ keeps on going about the coming persecution, and it is a bleak image: “Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child, children will rise up against parents and have them put to death.  You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved.”  Forget the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem for a second – this writer sounds like he’s survived the Nero-era persecution of Christians.  This bit serves as a pep talk for people in the late first century AD to persevere through all the problems they face.  If you think about it, these words make little sense in the context Matthew places them, but they make sense for the readers later on.  Why would Christ tell this to his apostles so early in his ministry?  Most of them, please note, won’t have to worry about having their parents kill them or them killing their parents.  The pep talk goes further, seemingly addressing any/all potential martyrs point blank: “And do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body.”  Whatever happens, stay true to the religion – it will see you through.

Oh, and if the rewards of keeping the faith isn’t enough, Christ also applies the stick along with the heavenly carrot: “Whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father.”  So be courageous …or else!

Christ then makes one of his more remarkable statements – one that flies directly and intentionally in the face of family values.  He says he’s come to break up families.  You must love me more than your parents or more than you love your children.  If you don’t, then you are unworthy of Christ.  He comes off like a real fucking asshole here.  Yeah, I know – you can love your family and God.  But look at it in context. He’s saying he’s come to break up families  - he says, “I have come to bring not peace but the sword” around here.  Sure, nowadays for most people you pray to Christ and you love your family.  But at the time he’s making this statement, Jesus is clear – you might have to make a choice between me or your families – and fuck you if you pick your families. 

CHAPTER 11

Apparently John the Baptist isn’t dead yet.  He sends messengers to Jesus – are you the messiah?  Christ gives one of his typical indirect answers.  He tells the messengers from the Baptist – just report to John what you see: “the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.  And blessed is the one who take no offense to me.”  So yeah, he’s totally the messiah, but he isn’t going to say it directly. 

As the messengers left, Christ began speaking to a larger crowd. Once again, Matthew makes clear that there is no time lapse between these events – “As [the messengers] were going off” the next section begins.  Christ gives a speech to a crowd where he praises the Baptist, even claiming John is Elijah. 

Christ shifts gears, and begins to denounce a series of towns.  It’s not really clear why he’s denouncing these towns, but I assume they rejected him and his message.  This is frankly petty.  It reminds me of the prophet Jeremiah getting so caught up in the muck of pissing wars with his opponents that he forgot to focus on the bigger picture here.  Christ tells the towns that they’ll have it worse than Sodom.  Question/theory: I wonder what happened to these towns (Chorazin, Bethsaida) during the Jewish uprising 30 years after Christ.  If they were destroyed (quite possible) then this passage would be post facto using Christ to justify their destruction.  They were destroyed not for rebelling against Rome, but rejecting God.

CHAPTER 12

Now the Pharisees are miffed that the Apostles ate grain on the Sabbath.  That’s against the rules, but Christ has a nifty rejoinder: David did it with his army once.  So get bent, Pharisees. 

Oh, and then they try to get Christ on an even lamer excuse.  A man with a withered hand asks Christ to heal it on the Sabbath.  Now the Pharisees leap – are you going to do this labor on the Lord’s Day?  It’s not lawful to do this on the Sabbath!  Seriously, Pharisees?  You’d rather someone suffer than let a minor rule go?  This gets to the heart of the Jesus-Pharisee dispute.  They are about rigorously enforcing rules and injunctions.  Christ is about the feeling behind it.  Sure, love God – but love your fellow man, too.  It’s about love, not edicts.  Christ makes a different response to them, though.  Ever had a sheep fall in a hole on the Sabbath?  You tried to get it out, right?  Is a human hand worth less than your sheep?  So get bent, Pharisees.

We’re seeing the plot advance here, aren’t we?  Now, it’s not just Christ doing his deeds.  Now it’s Christ have to defend himself from critics; real asshole critics.  People start openly wondering if Christ is the chosen one – the “Son of David” prophesized so long ago.  The Pharisees have their answer: no way.  In fact, they make the opposite claim.  Sure Christ can heel the sick – but his power comes from Satan, not God.

Jesus’s response is one of the best bits of logic in the Bible.  I’m in league with Satan, am I?  That’s dumb.  Look, I’m casting demons out of people.  I’m attacking demons.  Why would Satan – head demon himself – look to have one of his followers attack his other followers.  That’s just dumb, Pharisees – oh, and get bent.  (I guess they could argue that Christ is a sleeper cell for Satan playing the long game, but the TV show Homeland is still 2,000 years away).

We get the official Jesus Christ quotation of George W. Bush: “Whoever is not with me is against me, and however does not gather with me scatters.”  Bring it on, Pharisees.  And get bent.  Then he calls them a “Brood of vipers.”  Hey – John the Baptists called the Pharisees that, didn’t he?  (checks)  Yup, word-for-word in Matthew 3:7.  You can see there is still some Baptism influence on Christ. 

The Pharisees still haven’t gone off to get bent, though.  They demand proof from Christ  that he is The One.  They demand a miracle.  Christ tells them, in so many words, to get bent.  More precisely, he says, “An evil and unfaithful generation seeks a sign.”  This, by the way, fits in perfectly with Christ’s words in Chapter 4 when he dealt with Satan.  There, Christ told Satan that you don’t test God (Matthew 4:7).  Now the Pharisees are demanding a test, and that just ain’t right.

The chapter ends with a story that really doesn’t fit well with associations of Christianity – and it also is a sore sport for Catholic veneration of the Virgin Mary.  Christ is told he has visitors – his mom and his brothers.  OK, first – there is our first sign that Mary didn’t stay a Virgin.  Maybe she was when Christ was born (no, I don’t really think that, but let’s move on), but now she has other kids. Yeah, that makes sense – but please note some Christian traditions insist that she was always a Virgin, forever untainted by Original Sin.  These traditions claim that Christ’s brothers are either cousins, or half-brothers by Joseph from a previous marriage (which ended in his first wife’s death). Man, some traditions are really trying to hard to deny the obvious, aren’t they? 

Anyhow, Christ is told his family is there to see him – and he totally blows them off.  “Who is my mother?” Jesus says, “Who are my brothers?”  He points to his disciplines and says “Here are my mother and brother, for whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brothers, and sister, and mother.” Get bent, Virgin Mary. 

Actually, if you think about it, that passage above indicates that Christ doesn’t think his own relatives are following his ways.  That’s interesting.  But more than that – he’s blowing off his own kin!  Boy, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was coming to bring not peace, but the sword.  There is a definite militant edge to Christ throughout this Gospel.  Early on, his birth is enough to cause Herod to slice up babies out of fear; Christ’s Sermon on the Mount sets up impossibly high standards for ethical conduct, and here he is disdainful to his own mom.

Speaking of that mom – the Virgin Mary will later becomes a key figure in the Catholic Church.  Going back to medieval times, people pray to the Virgin Mary, that she might intervene with her son on their behalf.  (Because what boy would refuse his mother?) Well, Jesus would refuse his mother, that’s who.  I’m sure there are other points in the Gospels that will present a different view of the Mary-Jesus relationship – but this is in the Bible, too. 

Really, throughout Matthew so far Christ has had an anti-family attitude.  Love him more than you love your kids and parents.  Be willing to break with your family.  Now this.  Whoever wrote the Gospel of Matthew, this author probably had his family reject him over his newfound religion.

CHAPTER 13

Weighing in at 58 verses, this is the longest chapter in Matthew – until the Passion. 

It’s primarily a bunch of teachings of Christ – and it’s a different type of teachings than the Sermon on the Mount.  Instead of directly saying what he means, he gives a bunch of parables.  Jesus does love his parables.  At one point in this chapter his disciples ask him why he speaks in parables, and Christ tells them that not everyone has yet been granted access to the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven.  So Christ speaks indirectly, to give them a sense of it, but not really get too detailed. Oh, and he doesn’t say this, but it’s also a nice way to frustrate and those Pharisees who are constantly out to trap him. 

Most of Christ’s parables are about the kingdom of heaven, and how it will grow.  It’s like grain that is scattered on various types of soil.  Some soil might see it sprout really well, but it will wither at the first bad time.  So Christ needs his ideas to be planted in deep soil, soil that will allow deep roots that will nourish the theology and allow it go grow. 

If, in the meantime, that means some bad influences will enter his movement, Christ will accept that.  At least that’s the take I get from the next parable, about weeds among the wheat.  A mean guy planted weeds in his neighbor’s wheat field, but the guy decides to let the weeds grow. Uprooting them will uproot some wheat.  He’ll wait until the harvest and then uproot the weeds first and burn them in the fire.  Then he’ll collect the wheat.  Christ later explains that when the Day of the Lord comes, the non-believers will be the weeds and they’ll be burnt, like the weeds.  Hey!  I think we just our first sense of the Christian hell – a place where sinners go to burn. 

Christ makes a factual error in his next parable.  He says the mustard seed is the smallest of seeds, but grows one of the biggest of plants.  That’s what he wants his movement to be like.  Problem: there are smaller seeds than the mustard seed.  There just are – this isn’t arguable.  That hasn’t stopped an entire cottage industry of Biblical literalists to try to explain their way out of this one.  Folks, sometimes you got to let the little things go.  Moving on, this mustard seed analogy does a great job analogizing what will actually happen. The Jesus movement does start small – but boy oh boy does it ever grow big eventually!

Christ then gives a bunch more parables.  Most are short and they are too many to really recount.  The main thing is they are all nature allegories.  They are parables designed to work for farmers.  That makes sense – almost all people back then farm.  This would make sense to them.  We’re a bit removed from the agricultural focus on the early Christian environment, so it does have quite the same resonance.

Oh, and periodically the apostles ask Christ what his parables mean.  He explains without any anger – but I do believe he’ll get sick of them later on not being able to figure this out on their own.

Oh, and I almost forgot – the chapter ends with one of my favorite scenes in the Bible so far.  Jesus goes back to his hometown of Nazareth to preach before the people he grew up with.  He speaks at the synagogue and they are amazed – and not necessarily in a good way. They exclaim, “Is he not the carpenter’s son?  Is not his mother named Mary and his brothers James, Joseph, Simon, and Judas?  Are not his sisters all with us? Where did this man get all this?”  They’re offended!  Jesus has to leave in anger, declaring, “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and in his own house.”  He didn’t achieve any miracles there, they lack faith in him.

This is wonderful for several reasons.  First, this story is great evidence for the historical Jesus.  Sometimes people will wonder if Jesus really lived, and yeah, the evidence is pretty strong (too much written about him too soon after his death to make his life total fiction).  But think about this – if Christ really was fiction; if he was a fabrication made by St. Paul and writers like Matthew – why oh why would you ever invent this story?  Wouldn’t you rather have the people who grew up around him the most likely to see him as a special one?  “Oh, we knew him when he was little and even then, you could tell…”  Yeah, that’s how you handle it if he’s fiction.

But look at it from the perspective of the townspeople.  Look at their words.  They could just as easily say, “Is he not the carpenter’s son?  Didn’t he wet his pants in the second grade and get admonished by his kindergarten teacher for eating paste?”  Man, how can they see him as the Messiah?  - They knew him when he was a snot-nosed twit, just like everyone else.  Familiarity doesn’t necessarily breed contempt, but it sure as hell doesn’t breed awe and reverence.  How can you think someone is the Messiah when you’ve heard him belch? 

It’s just a wonderfully realistic and human story.  And Christ’s response is perfect.  He’s annoyed, he’s embarrassed – he wants out of this two-bit cow-town.  A prophet has no honor in his own house.  That reminds me of a line by Gen. Schwartzkopf after Desert Storm.  He recalled being a top general at a military base.  He gives an order and 60,000 move just as he tells them to – then he goes home and he can’t get his kids to take out the trash.  God, that’s a wonderful end to the story of Christ in Nazareth. 

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