Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said … “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory” (Mark 10:35–37).
People will go to great lengths to get the best seats in a restaurant, a theater, or at some important public occasion, but James and John outdid themselves in their asking (apparently with their mother’s urging – Matthew 20:20–21) for the seats at the right and left hand of Christ in his coming kingdom. We should remember that this event took place shortly after Jesus had already promised his apostles that they would all “sit upon thrones” judging the twelve tribes of Israel in the kingdom of God (Matthew 19:28). The request made by James and John was not just for great authority, but to be elevated to the highest positions of all at Christ’s right and left hand.
The audacity of these two disciples may seem remarkable in what they asked, but in reality, James and John were not the only disciples enamored by the thought of ruling with power. Mark shows that the other disciples were extremely angry once they realized the two brothers had made this bid for prominence in the group (Matthew 20:24). While the other disciples’ reaction may have been one of “righteous indignation,” it is perhaps more likely that they were simply angry at being almost outmaneuvered in regard to who would be the greatest among them.
Yet we should notice that Jesus did not rebuke the disciples regarding their desire for these elevated positions. Rather, he first asked James and John if they were able to “drink the cup” he was going to have to drink – referencing, of course, his coming suffering (Matthew 20:22). Jesus then patiently explained to all the disciples that the greatest among them must be the greatest servant (Matthew 20:25–27) and tried to help them to understand that before any such elevated positions in his kingdom were assigned, he must suffer and die (vs. 28).
After this, Jesus continued on the way to Jerusalem where he knew he would sacrifice his life, but we do not know if the disciples learned the lesson he had attempted to teach them. There is nothing in the gospels that indicates they understood or applied the lesson at that time. We can almost see them jostling with each other to get to be closest to Jesus as he rode, humbly yet triumphantly, into Jerusalem (Matthew 21:1–11). But the events that soon took place must surely have brought the lesson back to their memories.
After Jesus’ betrayal, when it came to the time of his death on the cross, the only ones who were lifted up at his right and left hand were the two condemned individuals who were crucified on either side of him (Matthew 27:38). We can only wonder if James and John realized the irony of that fact, and if they saw in it the lesson Christ had tried to teach them – that those who get to be elevated on the right and left hand of the Son of God are not the great of the world who rule by the world’s power, but those who lose their lives and who symbolically, spiritually, are crucified with him (Galatians 2:19–20).
The lesson is clearly there for us to understand and apply also. The apostle Paul explained this spiritual fact when he wrote that: “God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:6). We are all given the opportunity to sit with Christ in his kingdom, but we should not focus on who will be closest to his right or left hand – rather, as Paul affirms: “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God” (Colossians 3:1). The goal is not to obtain the best seat possible, but to serve and sacrifice and to eventually sit together with him.
Jesus was not the only messianic figure to appear in ancient Palestine. The Jewish people of the first century were waiting for a messiah who would rise up to free them from Roman rule – and a number of seeming messiahs did appear (Acts 5:37). Two of the most important of these supposed messiahs were Simon bar Giora and Simeon bar Kosevah. You may not have heard of these individuals, but for many they were of life and death importance in their day, and their stories carry a message we can all learn from.
Simon bar Giora (died AD 70/71) was probably born during the later life of Jesus or only a few years after Jesus’s death. He was one of the many patriot leaders who emerged in Judea as a result of Roman oppression and misrule, and he eventually rose to prominence as the head of one of the major Judean factions during the First Jewish-Roman War. These patriot leaders gathered large followings and attacked both the Romans and those seen as Roman sympathizers. They appear to have been motivated by religious as well as political concerns and Simon apparently proclaimed liberty for slaves and the oppressed, very likely following Isaiah’s message (Isaiah 61:1) of the Lord’s Anointed who would bring good tidings to the humble and proclaim liberty to the captives – just as Jesus had done (Luke 4:18). But while Jesus did not claim to go beyond this point at his first coming, Simon embraced the following words of the prophecy which were that the anointed would also “proclaim … the day of vengeance of our God” (Isaiah 61:2).
Simon was a physically powerful man, and his victories against the Romans exhibited good leadership and strategic thinking as well. Even the Jewish historian and Roman collaborator Josephus – who clearly hated Simon – was forced to admit that the leader “was regarded with reverence and awe, and such was the esteem in which he was held by all under his command, that each man was prepared even to take his own life had he given the order.” In fact, Simon was acclaimed by the people as their messianic savior, yet when the tide of war turned and the Romans eventually defeated Simon, he was taken to Rome and executed there. In Judea, in the wake of the brutal Roman victory and resulting destruction of the Jewish temple in AD 70, Simon was soon forgotten.
Simeon bar Kosevah – also called bar Kochba – (died AD 135) achieved even greater fame with the Jewish people, convincing them of his anointed status at the time of the Second Jewish-Roman War. This second Jewish rebellion took place sixty years after the first and lasted approximately three years. During that time Bar Kosevah tried to revive the Hebrew language (by then largely replaced by Aramaic and Greek) and to make Hebrew the official language of the Jews as part of his messianic ideology. Although he was widely accepted by many Jews as the messiah who would free them from Roman misrule (he was even said to be the messiah by Akiva, the most famous rabbi of the time), Bar Kosevah also made many enemies. He did not unify the people, and according to the early Christian writer Eusebius, he executed many Christians for their refusal to fight against the Romans.
Bar Kosevah was also not a great military strategist or leader and despite many early victories achieved with an army of over 200,000, his downfall to the Romans was inevitable. After his defeat and death, most Jews soon forgot his messianic status and later Rabbis changed his name – calling him “Bar Koziba,” meaning “Son of the Lie.”
After the disastrous Second Jewish-Roman War, messianic hopes and claims diminished, but when the Jewish Talmud was composed, it made several predictions for the arrival of the messiah, including the year 440 (Sanhedrin 97b) and 471 (Avodah Zarah 9b). Around this time a Jew named Moses of Crete claimed that he was the one the Talmud had predicted. Promising that, like his biblical namesake, he would lead his followers through the water and back to the Promised Land, Moses convinced many of his fellow Jews to leave behind their belongings and march directly into the sea. Moses himself disappeared, but many of his followers drowned. He too was soon forgotten.
But these and other claimed messiahs all teach us something important about the Christian faith. While the death and resurrection of Jesus is often disparaged by cynics and disbelievers as just another messiah story, perpetrated by those who did not want to give up their messianic hopes, it is clearly different. Despite the expectations and whipped up emotions of the followers of the many supposed messiahs, not a single one was believed to have been raised from the dead. The followers of each of these pseudo- messiahs simply accepted their leader had been killed, and their movements disappeared almost overnight. This was not so, of course, with the early Christians who, had they not believed that Jesus had been resurrected, would have simply done the same as the followers of every messianic figure before and after him, and given up.
That the early Christians did not give up their hopes is obviously based on the great many individuals the New Testament tells us were witnesses to the resurrection. As N. T. Wright has written: “We are forced to … account for the fact that a group of first-century Jews, who had cherished messianic hopes and centered them on Jesus of Nazareth, claimed after his death that he really was the Messiah despite the crushing evidence to the contrary” (The Resurrection of the Son of God, p. 562). The followers of no other messiah claimed anything like that. The good news of Christianity is that Christianity is not just another messiah story.
Sometimes a little biblical detective work can open new windows into our understanding of the stories of the New Testament.
The Priest
The Gospel of John tells us that when Jesus was betrayed: “.… They bound him and brought him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year” (John 18:12-13). The apostle John apparently knew some of the high priest’s family and was able to provide this detail not found in the other Gospels.
Annas (also called Ananus and Ananias) himself was an interesting character. Serving as High Priest for ten years, from AD 6–15, this man was the patriarch of a dynasty of priests. Immensely powerful, when he was deposed by the Roman procurator Gratus, Annas maintained a high degree of power through arranging the appointment of his five sons (Eleazar, Jonathan, Theophilus, Matthias, Ananus) and his son-in-law, Caiaphas, to succeed him.
The Jewish High Priest normally served for life (Numbers 35:25, 28), so the rapid-fire changes in succession after Annas suggest that he may have worked to ensure that he kept control of things as the real power behind the temple hierarchy. This maintaining power while technically deposed would explain why Annas was able to continue as head of the Jewish Sanhedrin (Acts 4:6) and perhaps explains why, when Jesus was arrested, he was first taken not to “Caiaphas, the high priest that year,” but to Annas. In fact, so real was Annas’ behind-the-scenes power that Luke records the word of God came to John the Baptist “during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (Luke 3:2).
The Plot
In his Gospel, the apostle John gives us another bit of information relative to the dealings of the chief priests. After Jesus raised Lazarus from the grave, John tells us that “a large crowd of Jews found out that Jesus was there and came, not only because of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and believing in him” (John 12:9).
Again, John may have learned this perhaps because of his contacts in the high priestly households; but it is clear that this was a very real plot to get rid of not only Jesus himself, but also Lazarus as evidence of Christ’s miracle. Although Annas is not mentioned by name, it is inconceivable that such a plot would have been made without the knowledge of the chief priest and his sons – though it was more likely instigated by them as the “chief priests.” To understand the significance of this background, we must look at one of Jesus’ parables given at that time.
The Parable
In his parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man, Jesus told his listeners: “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus …” (Luke 16:19-20). The parable continues to say that when he died, in the afterlife, the rich man implored the patriarch Abraham “… I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment” (vss. 27-28).
Notice that although the NIV says “to my family,” the Greek actually says “to my father’s house” (as translated in the ESV and almost all other versions). When Abraham replies that “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them,” the rich man responds “No, father Abraham …but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent” (vss. 9-30). To this Abraham states conclusively: “… If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead” (vs. 31).
The cast of characters in this parable are unmistakable. Although “Lazarus” is not specified to be the Lazarus of Bethany Christ raised from the dead, the New Testament does not speak of any other Lazarus; had it been a different individual, John would surely have identified him as he does in other instances when multiple people shared the same name.
The “rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen” is surely the high priest Caiaphas whose robes were exactly as described. Conclusively, the rich man has a father and five brothers. In the close families of ancient Palestine, “brothers” could mean blood bothers or brothers-in-law. So the identity of these individuals is clear – they are none other than Caiaphas (the rich man), Annas (the father) and his five sons (the brothers-in-law). If this were not the case, there would have been no reason for Jesus to include five brothers in the parable – the rich man could just have pleaded for his family.
For Jesus’ original hearers it was doubtless clear that his parable made the point that just as the rich man’s father and brothers would not believe even after the return of the Lazarus of the parable from the dead, so the actual high priestly family had not believed when the real Lazarus had indeed been raised. Understood this way, the story of Lazarus and the rich man is paralleled by a number of other parables in which Jesus used actual historical situations of his day (see our free e-book on the parables for other examples). There is also perhaps a small practical lesson we can take from this understanding of Jesus’ parable: the unfailing discretion of Jesus. Although the characters of his parable may have been recognizable to his audience, Jesus did not go as far as identifying them by name. This fits the pattern we see throughout the New Testament in which Jesus never identifies and condemns individuals by name, only as groups – the Pharisees, scribes, tax collectors, or whatever. Although he could have publicly accused and discredited specific individuals on many occasions, Christ did not do so in his human life. In our own time – a time of heightened political invective – this is an example for every Christian to consider.
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Luke’s Gospel indicates that the evangelist may have particularly appreciated good food – at least it shows clearly that he noticed and commented on food more than any other Gospel writer! But Luke does not simply mention food and meals – he draws lessons from them, as we will see.
First, as a frame of reference, we should notice that Luke’s account of the life of Jesus really does have a noticeable focus on food. For example, while Matthew uses the word “eat” 18 times, and John only 15 times, Luke uses the word 33 times. Mark also uses this word quite frequently (25 times), but overall Luke uses a number of eating and food-related words twice as many times as Mark and the other Gospels, so his emphasis on this is clear. Within his Gospel, Luke also – uniquely – describes ten meals in which Jesus participated, and we will look at them all briefly.
1) Dining with the Despised. Luke 5:27-32 tells the story of how Jesus accepted an invitation to “a great banquet” at the home of Levi (Matthew) – one of the hated tax collectors employed by the Romans. We are told that “a large crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them” and that the Pharisees and religious teachers who saw this complained “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” The first meal Luke describes immediately teaches us that eating with others is an important form of showing true acceptance. It’s a lesson we can all learn from. Is there someone we could eat with as a way to show our acceptance and love for them?
2) The Horrible Host. Luke 7:36-50 records how Jesus went to eat at the home of a certain Simon, one of the Pharisees who invited him but did not provide him with any of the normal forms of welcome and comfort. Dinners such as this were often eaten partially outdoors in the cool of the day, which meant that the woman who came to anoint Jesus with costly perfume would have been able to see and go to him. But the woman crossed an invisible social barrier in doing this and in her subsequent actions, and when the self-righteous Pharisee became indignant Jesus gently corrected him while showing support for the woman. Sadly, in many families, more arguments occur during meals than at any other time, and Jesus’ actions teach a valuable lesson in the effective de-escalation of interpersonal tensions in such circumstances. We can learn a lesson from this regarding keeping our meals and interactions positive.
3) Catering to a Crowd. Luke 9:10-17 tells how a large crowd of people followed Jesus to hear his teaching, and the disciples then urged him to send them away so that they could find food and lodging. Jesus felt empathy for the tired and hungry crowds, however, and performed the miracle of feeding the crowd of five thousand with only two fish and five loaves of bread. The story contains a symbolic lesson in that the twelve baskets of “crumbs” the disciples gathered up after the meal (vs. 17) doubtless represented the twelve tribes of Israel for which Jesus was providing spiritual food. But at the practical level, the story teaches us the need for an observant and thoughtful attitude that looks for and sees the needs of others, and that we should never hesitate to help those in real need because we do not have much ourselves.
4) The Hassled Hostess. Luke 10:38-42 describes a dinner Jesus attended at the home of his friends Mary and Martha. When Mary sat and listened to Jesus, Martha complained that she could not complete all the preparations by herself. Jesus, of course, gently rebuked Martha by telling her that sometimes listening is more important than eating, and pointed out that she was “worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed” (vss. 41-42). Meals can be an important part of our relationships with others, but they shouldn’t become an end in themselves. A less elaborate meal may be better if it means more time together.
5) Consider Cleanliness. Luke 11:37-53 is a somewhat different meal story. When a Pharisee invited Jesus to eat with him, we are told “the Pharisee was surprised when he noticed that Jesus did not first wash before the meal” (vs. 38). We do not know exactly what the Pharisee said, but Jesus’ response was withering: “you Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness” (vs. 39). Jesus then continued by detailing some of the Pharisees’ problems and showing them their hypocrisy. The dinner seems to have ended at this point, but Jesus doubtless knew this meal was doomed from the start (vs. 53). Of course, the lesson from this meal can be applied in our own lives if we are more concerned with details of physical cleanliness than with cleanliness of thought, speech, and attitude.
6) Principles with our Provisions. Luke 14:1-24 tells how “One Sabbath …Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee.” Jesus used this dinner as a teaching opportunity and told three parables, each with its own lesson – the lawfulness of healing on the Sabbath day, the principle of humility in not taking the place of honor at banquets, and the principle of inviting “the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind” to our feasts (vs. 13). The second two principles are certainly ones that we can apply in our own lives when we are invited to a meal or offer one to others.
7) A Salvation Stopover. Luke 19:1-10 gives the story of Zacchaeus, a tax collector at Jericho who wanted to see Jesus and hear his words. While Jesus had doubtless been offered dinner at a number of “respectable” homes, he had evidently declined as he was only planning to pass through Jericho (vs. 1). But seeing Zacchaeus’s receptiveness, Jesus invited himself to the man’s home (vs. 5), ate there, and brought the word of salvation to him (vs. 9). Sometimes we need to be willing to stop doing even the most important work or be willing to change our plans in order to fit in a meal or other activity that can make a difference in someone’s life – as Jesus certainly did with Zacchaeus (vs. 8).
8) Making the Meal Matter. Luke 22:14-38 is the account of the most memorable meal in the Gospels – that of the Last Supper Jesus shared with his disciples. Although the meal symbolized and was spiritually all about Jesus and his coming sacrifice, Jesus explained this, but focused nonetheless on guiding and serving his friends (compare John13:3; etc.). Today, most of our big celebrations – birthday, anniversary, graduation, and other dinners – are about us and, it is natural to tend to focus on ourselves at such times. The Last Supper teaches the opposite of this and has many lessons we can learn in this regard.
9) A Supper Surprise. Luke 24:28-35 describes a post-resurrection event when the risen Jesus – unknown to them – joined two of his followers as they walked to the village of Emmaus outside of Jerusalem. Jesus talked with the followers and explained the Scriptures to them, but they still did not realize who he was until they stopped to eat supper together. As soon as Jesus gave thanks for the food and broke the bread, as he had done at the Last Supper, the two disciples’ eyes were opened, and they recognized him (vs. 31). The lesson here is simple but important – the story prompts us to ask ourselves if people would recognize us as Christians if we were to eat with them, and if so, how?
10) Proof in the Presence. Luke 24:36-43 is the final meal Luke records in his Gospel, occurring when Jesus appeared to the main group of his disciples after his resurrection. It was at this meeting that he allowed them to see and touch his wounds to prove that it was indeed him. But, in a fascinating turn of the story, as though it was unplanned, we read “And while they still did not believe it because of joy and amazement, he asked them, ‘Do you have anything here to eat?’ They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence” (vss. 41-42). In taking a physical meal with his disciples, Jesus showed it was he – the one who had eaten so many meals with them in friendship and mutual acceptance. When we do meals right, we follow his example.
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey (Zechariah 9:9).
The Gospel of Luke recounts how Jesus fulfilled the words spoken by the prophet Zechariah as he entered Jerusalem in a “triumphal entry” during the climactic week at the end of his ministry (Luke 19:28-44). Luke tells us how Jesus instructed two of his disciples to go to a nearby home where they would find a young donkey and to bring it to him. He told the disciples that if anyone challenged them, they were to simply say: “The Lord needs it” (Luke 19:31). The disciples did this – explaining to the donkey’s owners what Jesus had told them.
This initial part of the story is interesting in itself. Jesus was, in effect, invoking the ancient principle of angaria (from a Babylonian word meaning “mounted messenger”) by which kings, rulers and other individuals with official responsibilities could requisition property for official use. Angaria originated in the earliest postal systems in the ancient Persian, Greek and later Roman cultures where an animal could be “requisitioned” from its owner to carry the mail on the next stage of its multiple-staged journey, somewhat equivalent to the “Pony Express” of the American frontier. In the Judea of Jesus’ day, under Roman rule, animals could be commandeered in this way for the emperor’s service, and the right was also expanded to include the needs of the king, and even magistrates and rabbis.
A Messenger Received in Joy
This incident was, then, the prelude to the actual triumphal entry in which the crowds provided what we would call today a “red carpet” entry for Jesus by covering the road with their capes and the branches of trees to welcome him as he rode on the donkey into the city (Luke 19:35-37). The scene was not unlike a humbler version of the great Roman “Triumphs” in which the grateful citizens celebrated the procession of heroes who had served the people. In fact, the similarity with a Roman Triumph is more than superficial, because the Triumph was a civil and religious ceremony which was held to publicly “celebrate and sanctify” the success of a commander who had led his forces to victory in the service of the people.
But Jesus rejected the aggrandizing nature of the pagan Triumphs which fed the cult of personalities in Roman and other cultures, and he did this by riding humbly on a young donkey – the antithesis of the great horses of conquering kings and heroes – while fulfilling the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9 in every detail. Yet Jesus did accept the people’s praise (Luke 19:40), and the details of the story from beginning to end show that a triumphal entry – a symbolic victory celebration – was intended.
The words of the crowds who welcomed Jesus in this triumphal entry are important. Luke tells us (Luke 19:38) that the crowds quoted from the great messianic Psalm 118 – which is why the Pharisees attempted to silence them (Luke 19:39). This is the same psalm that contains, in vs. 22, the statement so significantly quoted by Jesus in Luke 20:17: “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” But also this psalm contains clear references to the triumphal entry of the Messiah:
* I look in triumph on my enemies (Psalm 118:7). * I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done (vs. 17). * Open for me the gates of the righteous; I will enter and give thanks to the Lord (vs. 19). * Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. From the house of the Lord we bless you. The Lord is God, and he has made his light shine on us. With boughs in hand, join in the festal procession up to the horns of the altar (vss. 26-27).
Although Luke only cites a few of the words from Psalm 118, the psalm is in fact a full prophetic description of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem.
What Was the Victory?
But if this was a triumph, what was the victory? Jesus had not yet defeated sin and death on the cross, and he had not yet completed the work he came to accomplish in this regard. Yet there was one way in which a victory was surely celebrated. The primary purpose of the angaria, by which Jesus obtained the donkey on which he rode, was to deliver a message. And at this point, at the end of his ministry, Jesus had successfully delivered the news of the kingdom of God to the point that it was now established and would continue to spread throughout the world. He had also lived the perfect life needed in order that he could give himself as a sacrifice for all humankind.
In that sense, Jesus had fully triumphed in his work when he came to Jerusalem as “… your king who comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9, emphases added). The entry of Jesus into Jerusalem prior to his death was indeed a triumph: it celebrated Jesus’ righteous life and the fact that he had succeeded in delivering the message that he brought into the world. There is surely a lesson in this for us. In following Christ as his disciples we do not attempt to mimic everything he did, of course, but we should certainly follow in many of his steps, as he commanded us. The dual nature of Christ’s fulfilled mission – of living in obedience to God and carrying his message – is a dual opportunity and goal for every one of his followers, also. To focus only on our own obedience or only on the message we were commissioned to carry is not a complete fulfillment of the calling we have been given. To the extent that we are able, with God’s help, to live lives pleasing to God and to serve him in carrying his message, we too participate in the victory of Jesus.
Biblical genealogies are things most of us read, accept and move on in our reading. But the genealogy Matthew gives for Jesus at the beginning of his Gospel has a particularly interesting aspect. Matthew divides the “family tree” he constructs for the promised Messiah into three sections of fourteen generations each, saying: “Thus there were fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Messiah” (Matthew 1:17).
But if we look back into the Old Testament lists of the ancient kings of Judah who were among the ancestors of Jesus, we find that Matthew actually omits three individuals between the kings Jehoram and Uzziah (Matthew 1:8): Ahaziah (2 Kings 8:25), Joash (2 Kings 12:1) and Amaziah (2 Kings 14:1). In other words, there were actually seventeen known generations between David and the exile, rather than fourteen as Matthew states.
How can we reconcile this apparent contradiction in the Scriptures? First, we must understand that Matthew follows a common ancient practice in structuring the genealogy he gives into clear units which were more easily remembered and taught. That Matthew omits some individuals in order to accomplish this pattern is not surprising because if we look back to the very first verse of his Gospel, he does that to an even more striking degree in saying “This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah the son of David, the son of Abraham” – where the practice of “jumping generations” is clearly utilized to make his point: to stress that Jesus was the descendant of David (who is actually named first, before Abraham).
We must remember that because Mathew wrote to a primarily Jewish audience, he knew that his readers were familiar with the king lists of the Hebrew Scriptures and that they would understand he was “jumping generations” in Matthew 1:8 in exactly the same way he did in Matthew 1:1.
We can see this fact in another way. Ancient genealogies usually omitted women in their reckoning, but Matthew includes four women who were Gentiles or had Gentile connections (Matthew 1:3, 5-6), even though he did not include the four great matriarchs of the biblical tradition – Sarah, Rebekah, Leah and Rachel. The reason is clearly because another theme of Matthew’s Gospel is the inclusion of the Gentiles in God’s plan for humanity.
Matthew adjusted the details of his genealogy of Jesus in order to make the points that were vital for his story. So, rather than contradicting Old Testament accounts, Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus is carefully constructed to stress Jesus’ descent from David and from Gentile ancestors – which gave him the genealogy to be not only the King of the Jews, but also the King of all mankind.
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