How shall we translate and then understand Matthew 11:30? This is no small matter, since many scholars and interpreters regard this verse as the interpretive key for the entire Matthean account! In addition, Matthew 11:28-30 is a beloved devotional passage which has brought encouragement and comfort over the past two millennia to myriad Jesus followers. This text is worth taking the time for both wrestling and meditation. And it will be the focus of my proclamation this weekend.

Here’s the NRSV rendering of Matthew 11:28-30. “‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’”

I am puzzled by the translation of “chrestos” in Matthew 11:30. This word catches my eye, in part, because it shows up prominently in Philemon 11. Philemon is a particular interest of mine.

Now, it is true that we don’t have an identical usage in that verse. However, the forms are certainly close enough for comparison. Paul includes the words “euchrestos” and “achrestos” as possible descriptions for Onesimus. These words can be translated as “useful” and “useless” respectively.

I mention this because I think this sense of “utility” is part of the basic meaning of the word. The word can mean useful, suitable, good, pleasant, kindly, and “easy to wear.” That last sense is connected in BAGD to our passage in Matthew. I find a certain amount of translation circularity in that reference. We sort of know that Jesus’ yoke is supposed to be “easy,” therefore, that must be how the term is to be translated in this instance.

I’m not so sure that’s the best solution. The function of a real yoke, one “worn” by beasts of burden, is to make the load-bearing more efficient. The load is spread out across the body of the load-bearer. It may also be shared by more than one load-bearer in a team. The goal of providing the yoke is to make the load-bearing more eff” icient. That happens by making the task more comfortable and less taxing for the load-bearer. But the yoke improves working conditions. It does not remove the need for the work.

As I preach this week, I will keep this sense of the verse in mind. I think the sense of Matthew 11:30 goes something like this: “For my yoke makes the work easier, and so my load is light by comparison” (my translation). One of the points I want to make this week is that the rest Jesus offers is vocation, not vacation. Jesus doesn’t invite disciples to abandon the work of The Kingdom. Rather, Jesus invites disciples into the good, life-giving work of The Kingdom. This good, life-giving work is part of the full human flourishing that the Matthean Jesus describes in this gospel account.

This is a paradoxical assertion, but that’s the deal with discipleship. “The relationship of discipleship requires absolute trust, demands obedience and whole-hearted commitment, and as the same time offers as gift,” writes Patricia Sharbaugh, “the rest that comes with dwelling in the presence of God” (page 46). Sharbaugh argues that Matthew 11:28-30 uses two converging symbols to make explore this discipleship paradox. These verses, she contends, bring together two important symbols in the Matthean account: Jesus as the new Moses and Jesus as personified Wisdom.

These verses appear only in the Matthean account. In verses 25-27, we get some of the “New Moses” description as the Matthean author takes listeners back to several Torah passages. In Numbers 12, Moses is described as meek. In Deuteronomy 34, Moses is described as the one who was intimate with God and brought that intimacy to Israel. And in Exodus 33, we can see Moses in a deep sense as the “savior” of Israel.

This image of Jesus as the New Moses permeates the Matthean account, but with a profound difference. “Jesus isn’t promised that God will be with him,” Sharbaugh notes, “but is himself the presence of God with the people, a presence that saves from the slavery of sin” (page 51). Our current text highlights that Mosaic connection. Jesus has an intimate and face to face relationship with God. This intimate relationship means that Jesus knows the Father’s heart. And most important, Jesus does not obey Torah. Rather, Jesus is Torah incarnate (page 52).

Sharbaugh notes that in Exodus 33:14, God promises to give Moses “rest.” This will immediately remind readers of the Sabbath. In the first and second centuries CE, both Jewish and Christian writes, according to Sharbaugh, connected “rest” both with the Sabbath and the messianic age. In both cases, the connection was eschatological. In other words, Sabbath rest was not a vacation. It was, rather, a sign of the promised age to come. It was “vocation” in the sense of a call from that blessed future into the present. So, Sabbath rest was a way to embody and prefigure the messianic age.

“Sabbath rest, which is associated with creation,” Sharbaugh writes, “will be restored when the messianic age dawns” (page 52). She notes that our text stands between a bunch of eschatological blessings and woes in chapter 11 and the Sabbath controversies in chapter 12. It’s no accident, I would add, that Jesus identifies himself in chapter 12 as “Lord of the Sabbath.”

“Jesus, promise of rest in Matthew is clearly associated with eschatology and the restoration of the Sabbath,” Sharbaugh argues, “Jesus is the herald of the messianic age, the beginning of the new creation” (page 52). That rest, in Exodus 33, means entry into and flourishing life in the land of promise. God will be with the people on that journey. “In Exodus God promises the rest that comes with his accompanying presence. In Matthew,” Sharbaugh concludes, “Jesus is that presence” (page 53).

As Sharbaugh notes, this “rest” is not merely a gift passively received. It comes as disciples take on the yoke of Jesus’ teaching and learn from him. “Within that invitation,” Sharbaugh observes, “is a proposal for a way of life that is paradoxically both gift and demand” (page 53). This language is familiar to Jewish listeners to the text. They know well the phrase, “the yoke of the Torah.” This yoke is not a burden. Rather, for Jews, accepting that yoke is regarded as the key to deep and full life with God.

“In Matthew 11, when Jesus urges his disciples to take up his yoke, he is in continuity with other Jewish teachers who use yoke to refer to the revelation of God and God’s will for human beings,” Sharbaugh writes. “He does not, however, refer to the yoke of Torah, but to his yoke. He does not ask his disciples to learn Torah, but to learn Jesus” (page 54).

The Matthean Jesus makes claims for himself and his teaching by describing himself as the New Moses. Sharbaugh winds up this section of her article with the following summary. “When the invitation is read through a Mosaic lens, the Christology revealed emphasizes the revelation of God’s presence and will for human beings in the person and teaching of Jesus Christ. Jesus doesn’t merely promise rest, he is rest. He doesn’t merely bring a new law but is the new law” (page 56).

Sharbaugh then turns to Jesus as Wisdom personified. “Wisdom literature claims that the pursuit of Wisdom is the pursuit of life. Life is meant to be more than mere existence. Wisdom themes in Matthew deepen the Christological invitation to a relationship with Jesus as the source of life lived in communion with God” (page 57). The rest Jesus promises is not mere vocation. It is vocation — the vocation to live as fully flourishing human beings in the Creation as God made it to be. Disciples begin to live into that renewed and restored vocation. Sharbaugh examines a number of Wisdom sources that undergird this contention. I refer you to her article for the details.

Sharbaugh finishes her article by describing some “implications for discipleship.” Disciples of Jesus respond to his invitation by teaching and embodying meekness and humility in their relationships with God and others. Disciples are invited to imitate the whole life of Jesus and thus to fulfill the Torah. “These personal characteristics” [and the full list included in the Beatitudes “reveal attitudes toward God and others,” Sharbaugh writes, “that draw one into communion with God and lead toward eschatological rest” (page 61).

But how does that fit with the verbal violence of verses 20-24? “the challenge of imitating Jesus is that disciples, like Jesus, are asked to embody these qualities in a world that is hostile to God,” Sharbaugh writes. “Persecution, mourning, and hunger and thirst for righteousness can all be expected, and yet those who follow Jesus are assured blessings the world cannot give. This is the difficult task of discipleship in Matthew. As the invitation indicates,” Sharbaugh continues, “disciples are not merely invited to learn a set of principles Jesus teaches, they are invited to walk the same way Jesus walked in the world” (pages 61-62).

Indeed, violence looks different when one is on the receiving end and powerless to respond in kind. Perhaps the Matthean invective is verbal protest when no action is permitted or possible. But that challenges us who have power to read very carefully as we engage this text.

“Because if in Sodom the deeds of power had happened which have happened in you,” Jesus declares in Matthew 11:23, “indeed it would still be standing today” (my translation). One detail that might slip past us as interpreters is the order in which the comparison cities are identified in this text. Tyre and Sidon have infamous reputations in several of the Hebrew prophetic books.

Sodom, of course, appears first and most infamously in the Torah. Once again, we have this peculiar Matthean order of the prophets and the Torah (see Matthew 11:13). We read the prophets through Jesus. And we read Torah through the prophets (which we have read through Jesus). This order will appear in the “plucking grain on the Sabbath” controversy in chapter 12 as well. There we will see a description of David’s activity in a book of the “former prophets.” Then we’ll see a reference to the issue from the perspective of Torah.

In our scriptural transmission and reception history, many of us have learned that the “sin of Sodom” was related to homosexual behavior. That understanding was tragically mistaken. That understanding does not reflect the images conveyed in Hebrew scripture and especially in the prophets.

The real “sin of Sodom” was the failure to receive, welcome, and honor the messengers of God who had come into the midst of the city to rescue Lot and his family. With this understanding in mind, Jesus’ reference to Sodom in our text makes far more sense. Jesus compares himself to the divine messengers who came to Sodom and were violently rejected. And, therefore, those who rejected the messenger (and the message) are compared to the doomed citizens of Sodom.

I’m not making a big deal of this in my proclamation this week. However, this is another indication that Jesus (and the New Testament in general) understood the “sin of Sodom” as rejection of God’s messengers rather than as engagement in same sex activity. Sometimes we may argue that Jesus doesn’t address homosexuality one way or another in the gospels (I’m not entirely persuaded by that argument). But we should also remember that Jesus is pretty clear about the real “sin of Sodom.” It is the rejection of divine messengers who come with a message of salvation — that is, a message of rescue from destruction.

With that in mind, the insult to Capernaum is breathtaking. Sodom was reduced to a pile of volcanic ash in the Torah account. If, however, the citizens of the city had witnessed Jesus’ acts of power among them (the Matthean Jesus argues), they would have straightened up and flown right. Capernaum has all the advantages and refuses to get it. Joseph Comber wonders if this text reminds readers that Capernaum was leveled during the Jewish war. If so, the insult would have particular and painful salience for a Matthean audience in the upper Galilee.

Comber notes the importance of the “day of judgment” theme in this text (and throughout the Matthean account). He concludes that in this text, “Jesus totally and unequivocally excludes the cities from eschatological salvation” (page 501). I find that conclusion to be an interpretive overreach. The text makes it clear that the Galilean cities will have a worse time of it on the day of judgment than even the most notorious Gentile cities. That, however, does not lead to a clear verdict of ultimate condemnation. Instead, this appears to me to be another example of Gentiles entering the kingdom of heaven while “the heirs of the kingdom” weep and grind their teeth waiting their turn (see Matthew 8:11-12).

It’s easy to detach Matthew 11:20-24 from its immediate context, but that would violate the text itself. Matthew 11:20 begins with “then.” This is a clear indication that we are to connect these verses to the preceding material. Matthew 11:25 begins with “in that very moment.” Again, this is a necessary connection to the preceding material. And it may well be an ironic nod to the fact that an encounter with Jesus is always an eschatological crisis for the one encountered, whether that encounter happens at the end of the age or in the middle of history. The “day of judgment” for those Galilean cities may well be those days in which Jesus was doing deeds of power in their midst rather than only at the end of the age.

The Galilean cities, and especially their Roman-oriented leadership (see the previous post), are those who would not lament with John and won’t party with Jesus (see Matthew 11:18-19). The point of those verses is that they will entertain no possibility that might upset the status quo. As a result, the Matthean Jesus images these cities (and by extension, all Israel), as those who oppose God’s plan. “In telling the story of Jesus in this manner, writes Cedric Vine, “the Evangelist seeks to emphasize that Israel has taken on the identity, practices, and mores of those nations subjected to divine judgment in the Hebrew Scriptures” (page 9).

It is in that very moment that Jesus thanks the Heavenly Father for keeping secrets from the “wise” and the “intelligent” (Matthew 11:25). Oh, how I wish the Greek manuscripts had “scare quotes” available to the scribes! We can’t read “tone” from the bare text. Attributing such scare quotes to the text is certainly a matter of interpretation and even speculation. But I think those quotes fit in our text at precisely this moment. The irony is that the so-called “wise” and “intelligent” of this world are anything but that when it comes to discerning the eschatological moment that confronts them. The moment could just as well be described in secret code for all such folks would know.

I continue to wrestle with the vitriol the Matthean author pours on those in the narrative who reject and oppose Jesus and his mission. From this point forward, both the opposition and the vitriol will increase in volume and severity. I struggle with how to preach through that anger which spills over at times into what sounds like hatred.

I understand that the Matthean author simply can’t be “anti-Jewish.” Instead, what we witness in the Matthean account is one side of a “Pharisaic intragroup conflict,” as Anders Runesson describes it. The Matthean narrative is written, in part, to deal with a conflict between Christian Jews and some other part(s) of the Jewish communities in Galilee or Syria. The Matthean author is clearly “anti” the other side of the debate. But that’s not the same as being “anti-Jewish.”

“Yet regardless of whether the Gospel was initially anti-Jewish, however,” Amy-Jill Levine writes, “it has certainly been interpreted in ways that convey anti-Jewish messages. Our task,” Levine concludes, “is to prevent this abuse of the text.” I can note in sermon after sermon that the Matthean author is a Jew writing to Jews. And I believe that will have some positive impact over time. I’m okay with that.

Nonetheless, I struggle with the extreme images and rhetoric the Matthean author uses in this intragroup conflict. Matthew 11:20-24 is a clear example. The author sounds like they are condemning three Jewish cities to hell (or at least to a very bad time), based on their response to Jesus. I have trouble reading these verses from the same mind and spirit that urge us to love our enemies, do good to those who persecute us, pray for those who hate us.

It’s hard to remember back to those stirring words in the Sermon on the Mount when we get into the second half of the Matthean account. I can remind my listeners about those words that serve as the framework for all that is to follow. But I’m not sure such reminders can overcome the volume of the anger expressed in these later texts.

A fellow alum of the small Christian college I attended posted one of the Matthean “two ways” sayings on social media the other day. You know, one of those “my way or the highway” things that show up with such regularity in the Matthean account. Another fellow alum observed that “Matthew” sounds a lot like certain right-wing politicians who wish to divide us all into the good and the bad and then to send the bad to hell.

That was a fair observation. And that’s part of my struggle. I can deal with the superficial “anti-Judaism” that has been used and abused in the text. But what do we as preachers do with the much deeper animosity the Matthean author expresses toward opponents throughout the text? That’s especially pressing when Matthean discourse is used to underwrite and justify self-righteous judgments and the violence toward others which may result.

The Matthean author seems to empower and even to bless some very violent thinking about their enemies. And this comes in the same account that tells me if I even think my neighbor is a damned fool, then I’m liable to the fires of judgment. I’m not okay with that.

I’m not going to get to a solution on this one today. I’m just sharing the same question I’ve had about the Matthean account for forty years. Granted, all the gospel accounts have some measure of this animus baked in. And let’s not get started on John’s gospel account! But there’s something sustained and systemic in Matthew’s malice toward the rejectors that has never allowed me to be at peace with the Matthean version of the story.

It’s one thing to pick at a theological scab in a blog post. It’s another thing to preach on texts like this. I don’t expect to get it all figured out by Sunday. But I’m praying for some insight.

This week I’m reading and praying about Matthew 11:20-30. Let’s begin with a preliminary translation.

(20) Then he began to reproach the cities in which most of his deeds of power had happened, because they did not repent. (21) “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! Because, if in Tyre and Sidon the deeds power had been done which were done in you, long ago indeed in sackcloth and ashes they would have repented! (23) Let me repeat: it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon in the day of judgment than for you. (23) And you, Capernaum — ‘you will be exalted up to heaven,’ (will you?). ‘You will be brought down to Hades.’ Because if in Sodom the deeds of power had happened which have happened in you, indeed it would be remaining today. (24) Again, let me tell you: it will be more bearable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment than for you.”

(25) In that moment, Jesus replied and said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have kept these things secret from the ‘wise’ and ‘intelligent’ and revealed them to ‘infants.’ Yes, Father, because such a thing was pleasing to you. (26) All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and none recognizes the Son except for the Father, neither does anyone recognize the Father except for the Son and those to whom the Son wants to reveal [the Father].”

(28) “Come toward me, all who are working hard and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. (29) Lift up my yoke upon you and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble-hearted, and you will find rest for your souls. (30) For my yoke is useful, and my load is light.”

Those who hear the words of Jesus and do them are like wise people who build their houses on stone foundations. Those who hear the words of Jesus and do not do them are like foolish people who build their houses on sand foundations (Matthew 7:24-27). I think this pattern of hearing and doing structures the five Matthean discourses and the narrative commentary that follows each one. Most of the people in Matthew 11 and 12 are people who hear the words of Jesus and do not do them.

Jesus delivers his discipleship discourse in Matthew 10. In chapters 11 and 12, we see and hear the responses to that call to discipleship. Most of the responses result in ridicule and rejection. The “Pharisees” in chapter 12, in response to what they see and hear, make plans to “ruin” or “destroy” Jesus. In our text, we hear, from the Matthean perspective, the responses of those closest to Jesus, those who know him, his track record, and his disciples the best. Those responses are not positive.

In Matthew 4, Jesus moves from Nazareth to Capernaum. Either he sets up housekeeping there, or he lodges with Peter and Peter’s family. That’s never quite clear to me in the Matthean account. I tend toward the latter perspective, but that’s a guess. When Jesus moved to Capernaum, he began to preach the message: “Repent, for The Kingdom of the heavens has drawn near” (Matthew 4:17). As part of that proclamation, Jesus heals all the distresses and diseases of the people (Matthew 4:23). These are the “deeds of power” in our text, the majority of which have been done in the environs of the Galilean cities.

Based on the apparent lack of repentance, Jesus insults the cities and their inhabitants. In Matthew 11:6, Jesus utters a makarism (beatitude) in response to John’s question about the apparent delay of The Coming Kingdom. “And (blessed or happy or flourishing),” Jesus says, “is the one who is not tripped up by me.” Makarisms are paired with woes. That pairing begins in verse 21. A woe is a cry of lament. It is not a “curse.” Jesus is capable of cursing someone or something, if the occasion warrants it. But this is not such a time.

Jesus mourns over the lack of repentance among those closest to him, those who have seen most of his work thus far. If the pagans in Tyre and Sidon had been given such a front row seat, they would have pulled out the sackcloth and ashes. This is a clear nod to the Jonah narrative. There’s a prophetic prelude to Jesus’ experience there. Jonah appears never to get the message. But when the folks in Nineveh get a one-sentence sermon, they repent in sackcloth and ashes — from the palace to stockyards and everywhere in between!

The Matthean author and community are certainly wrestling with the failure of the gospel message to reach their Jewish family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues. We can see that perplexed wondering in the words of Jesus when he declares that he has come to bring a sword rather than tranquility (Matthew 10:34-39). The Matthean community is a synagogue (assembly) of Christian Jews who find themselves on the outs with their co-religionists who are not taken with the gospel of Jesus as the Messiah. It’s hard to figure out what’s going on.

We know Paul engages in a similar anguished meditation in Romans 9 to 11. Paul’s conclusion is that the Jews will come around at some point, when they have seen how it all works to convert the Gentiles. That may take some time, but (I believe) Paul hopes and prays that it will happen. The Matthean author, I think, is less optimistic about the outcome and more willing to ascribe the problem to Jewish hardness of heart. The Galilean cities are among those in the narrative who represent that response.

It’s not that Chorazin and Bethsaida are lost for eternity. Instead, we get a comparison with the treatment of Tyre and Sidon. On the day of judgment, it will be better to be Tyre and Sidon than to be Chorazin and Bethsaida. Tyre and Sidon don’t have any reason to respond. They are uninformed pagans (a bit like the “sheep” in Matthew 25). The Galilean Jews, in this chapter, are without excuse. They have heard the word and have not done it.

It’s even worse for the folks in Capernaum because they have received an even closer look at the deeds of power. In his insult to the hometown crowd, the Matthean Jesus makes a shocking comparison. He quotes a few lines from Isaiah 14. Here’s an example of the rule of thumb, “little text, big context.” Isaiah promises the return from Babylonian exile and the restoration of Israel. This is then expanded with an oracle pronounced against the King of Babylon (who took Judah into exile).

“When the Lord has given you rest from your pain and turmoil and the hard service with which you were made to serve,” Isaiah declares, “you will take up this taunt against the king of Babylon...” (Isaiah 14:3-4, NRSV). As interpreters, we need to keep this larger context in mind when we get to Matthew 11:28-30. It may well be that the “rest” Jesus has in mind in verse 28 is more akin to freedom from exile than it is peace of mind or tranquility of spirit. Thus, this “rest” has to do with the restoration of Israel and not merely with freedom from personal turmoil.

The actual quote on the lips of the Matthean Jesus comes from an edited version of Isaiah 14:12-15. Verse twelve is a kind of lament for the Babylonian king — “How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of Dawn! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low!” (NRSV).

Then comes the first line that Jesus addresses, in a paraphrase, to Capernaum: “You said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit on the mount of assembly on the heights of Zaphon;
I will ascend to the tops of the clouds, I will make myself like the Most High’” (Isaiah 14:13-14, NRSV). The prophet mocks the presumption of the King, who envisions himself as superior to the God of Israel.

“You will be exalted up to heaven, will you, Capernaum?” Jesus sneers. Not hardly. Like the foolish Babylonian tyrant of old, “you will be brought down to Hades” (Matthew 11:23, my translation). Like all tyrants, the king will die and descend to Sheol. He will find himself in the pit of darkness, just like everyone else. Worse than that, Isaiah declares. the king will not even get a decent burial. He’ll be treated like road kill, “like a corpse trampled underfoot” (Isaiah 14:19). This is the fate the Matthean Jesus describes for unrepentant Capernaum.

This reading of the bigger context should make it clear, however, that Jesus is not insulting and condemning the general population of Capernaum (or Chorazin or Bethsaida, I suspect). Instead, the critique seems addressed to those who are the rulers and leaders of these “cities” — that is, those who have aligned themselves with Herod Antipas and the Roman occupiers. These are the ones who have not repented (remember, it’s the king of Nineveh who leads the repentance efforts in Nineveh after Jonah’s sermon).

Thus, the woes here in Matthew 11 are intimately connected with the woes in Matthew 23. All are directed toward leaders who are more deeply committed to maintaining their power through collaboration than they are to making space for the new administration that Jesus proclaims and embodies.

What does that mean for the Matthean community and situation? What can this say to those of us who interpret and hear this text in the here and now? What does it mean for those who are church leaders and are, in some way, unrepentant? I quote Hauerwas in this regard.

“Like the cities of Israel, we have turned our existence as Christians into a status meant to protect us from recognizing the prophets who would point us to Jesus. Of course we do not like Jesus to pronounce judgment on the cities in which he performed deeds of power, because we do not want to recognize that we too are judged.” [Hauerwas, Stanley. Matthew (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible) (p. 116). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.]