Chapter 6 - Receiving the Sinner/Refusing the Righteous (9:9-17)

6 Receiving the Sinner/Refusing the Righteous (9:9-17)

And as Jesus passed on from there, He saw a man, called Matthew, sitting in the tax office; and He said to him, “Follow Me!” And he rose, and followed Him.

And it happened that as He was reclining at the table in the house, behold many tax-gatherers and sinners came and were dining with Jesus and His disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to His disciples, “Why is your Teacher eating with the tax-gatherers and sinners?” But when He heard this, He said, “It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick. But go and learn what this means, ‘I desire compassion, and not sacrifice,’ for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

Then the disciples of John came to Him, saying, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but Your disciples do not fast?” And Jesus said to them, “The attendants of the bridegroom cannot mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them, can they? But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast. But no one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and a worse tear results. Nor do men put new wine into old wineskins; otherwise the wineskins burst, and the wine pours out, and the wineskins are ruined; but they put new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved.” (9:9-17)

God’s receiving the sinner and refusing the righteous is central to the Christian faith. The gospel is not for good people but for bad people who know they are bad and who come to God for forgiveness and cleansing.

From the earliest part of his gospel, Matthew gives the message of God’s forgiveness of repentant sinners. In the genealogy of Jesus in chapter 1 he specifically mentions a number of people whose lives were marked by terrible sin. Both Rahab and Ruth were from pagan, idolatrous, Gentile nations, and Rahab was even a prostitute. Although David was a man after God’s own heart, he was also a murderer and adulterer.

As the forerunner of the Lord, John the Baptist prepared the people for the Messiah by preaching repentance from sin, and as they confessed their sins, he baptized them as a symbol of God’s cleansing (3:2, 6, 11). Jesus began His own ministry with the preaching of repentance (4:17), and in the Sermon on the Mount He proclaimed God’s offer of forgiveness for those who sincerely and humbly hunger and thirst for righteousness (5:3-6). In His model prayer He taught His followers to continue to ask God for forgiveness (6:12). From the day of Pentecost on, the early church preached repentance from sin as an integral part of the gospel message (Acts 2:38; 3:19; 5:31).

The object of men’s repentance is God’s forgiveness, and that is the dual theme of the gospel—men must turn from sin in order for God to forgive, cleanse, and save them. The only people who ever receive salvation and enter God’s kingdom are those who acknowledge their sinfulness and repent of it. It follows, then, that those who consider themselves already to be righteous see no need for repentance or forgiveness—and thereby shut themselves out from salvation in the kingdom of God.

That is the central truth of Matthew 9:9-17. Here one discovers one of the most definitive, dramatic, insightful, and comprehensive statements our Lord ever made. It gives the divine perspective on His ministry and the basic rationale of the incarnation. It is among the most important statements ever recorded in the Bible: “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (v. 13 b). That truth gives the essence of the gospel and the purpose for the incarnation. Jesus came into the world to call sinners to Himself. For those who know they have a terminal spiritual illness and who have no trust or hope in themselves to be cured, Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).

Those who are pleasing to God testify with the penitent tax-collector in the Temple: “God, be merciful to me, the sinner!” (Luke 18:13). Augustine pleaded, “Lord, save me from that wicked man, myself.” John Knox, perhaps the greatest preacher in the history of Scotland, confessed, “In youth, in middle age and now after many battles, I find nothing in me but corruption.” John Wesley wrote, “I am fallen short of the glory of God, my whole heart is altogether corrupt and abominable, and consequently my whole life being an evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit.” His brother Charles, who penned so many great hymns, confessed, “Vile and full of sin I am.” Augustus Toplady, who wrote the beloved hymn “Rock of Ages,” said of himself, “Oh, that such a wretch as I should ever be tempted to think highly of himself. I am myself nothing but sin and weakness, in whose flesh naturally dwells no good thing.”

As he beheld Jesus’ great power and glory, Peter declared, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!” (Luke 5:8). In his first letter to Timothy, Paul summed up the confession of every honest believer: “It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am foremost of all” (1 Tim. 1:15).

Had Jesus come to save the righteous, His incarnation would have been pointless. Righteous people need no salvation. But even more relevant to man’s situation is the fact that there are no righteous people apart from the saving work of Jesus Christ. “There is none righteous, not even one; there is none who understands, there is none who seeks for God; all have turned aside, together they have become useless; there is none who does good, there is not even one” (Rom. 3:10-12).

Many people, like the scribes and Pharisees of Jesus’ day, consider themselves to be righteous, and for them Jesus offers no hope or help, because they admit no need. The first declaration of the gospel is negative—that every man is sinful, separated from God, and condemned to hell. A person will not seek to be saved until he realizes he is lost. Therefore the first step in proclaiming the gospel is to tell men of their lostness, and the first step in receiving the gospel is to confess that lostness. A person will not seek healing until he is convinced he is sick; he will not seek life until he acknowledges he is dead. Conversion, then, occurs in one who is willing to accept the death sentence and also the acquittal of God. The man who does not recognize his condemnation to death has no hope for new life.

In the midst of his carefully selected accounts of Jesus’ miracles that show His credentials as the predicted Messiah, Matthew presents that central truth of the gospel. The first three miracles (see Matt. 8:1-17) dealt with disease and displayed Jesus’ power over sickness and the infirmities of the body. After those miracles came the response of three would-be disciples, whose unwillingness to pay the price of discipleship betrayed their lack of genuine faith (8:18-22; cf. Luke 9:57-62). The second group of three miracles displayed Jesus’ power over nature, over demons, and over sin (see 8:23-9:8).

The response to those three miracles is set forth in the present text. The first part of the response is positive, evidenced in the acceptance of the gospel by a penitent sinner. The second part of the response is negative, evidenced in the rejection of the gospel by those who thought themselves already to be righteous.

After Jesus forgave the paralytic’s sin (9:2), the questions in the minds of many people no doubt were: “How much sin is God willing to forgive? Whose sin can be forgiven, and whose not? What are the parameters and limits of His forgiveness? What are its conditions and how far does it go?” Those are the questions answered in verses 9-17.

THE POSITIVE RESPONSE

And as Jesus passed on from there, He saw a man, called Matthew, sitting in the tax office; and He said to him, “Follow Me!” And he rose, and followed Him.

And it happened that as He was reclining at the table in the house, behold many tax-gatherers and sinners came and were dining with Jesus and His disciples. (9:9-10)

As He left Capernaum, “His own city” (v. 1; cf. 4:13), Jesus passed on from there and saw a man, called Matthew. Mark calls Matthew by the name of Levi and identifies him as “the son of Alphaeus” (Mark 2:14; cf. Luke 5:27). It was not uncommon for men to be known by more than one name. Thomas was also called Didymus (John 11:16), Mark was sometimes called John (Acts 12:12), and Peter was also known as Simon (Matt. 4:18). It may be that the Lord renamed Levi as Matthew (which means, “gift of Jehovah, or Yahweh”) just as He renamed Simon as Peter (which means, “stone”; see Matt. 16:18; John 1:42).

When we realize that Matthew penned these two verses about himself, we get a glimpse of his modesty and humility. In his own mind, the most important truth about the writer’s former character is given in the words, sitting in the tax office. To Jews of his day, that single phrase established Matthew as the most despised, vile, and corrupt man in Capernaum.

Matthew was a publicani (whence the title publican in some translations), a man who served occupying Rome against his own people as a collector of taxes. By the nature of his position, his first loyalty had to be to Rome. Nationals of a country or province occupied by Rome could buy franchises that entitled them to levy certain taxes on the populace and on travelers. A franchise required collecting a specified amount of taxes for Rome and allowed anything collected beyond that figure to be kept as personal profit. Because his power of taxation was virtually unlimited and was enforced by the Roman military, the owner of a tax franchise in effect had a license for extortion. For those reasons the publicani were understandably considered traitors by their own people and were usually even more despised than Roman officials or soldiers.

Many tax collectors would accept bribes from the wealthy to reduce and falsify their taxes and would then exact proportionately more from the middle and lower classes, making themselves hated still more. They amassed great fortunes under the authority of the oppressor and at the expense of their own countrymen.

Most Jews believed that the only proper government over them was a theocracy—the rule of God through His appointed leaders such as they experienced under Moses, the judges, and the Jewish monarchy. Because they considered any foreign rule over them to be illicit, they considered taxation by any such government as both unjust and unholy. Taxation by Rome was therefore not only extortive but also made them compromise both their patriotism and their religion. It was those convictions that prompted the Pharisees to ask Jesus if it was proper to pay taxes to Caesar (Matt. 22:17). For Jesus to have answered yes would in their minds have marked Him both as a traitor and a reprobate.

The noted Jewish scholar Alfred Edersheim reports that a Jewish publicani was barred from the synagogue and was forbidden to have any religious or social contact with his fellow Jews. He was ranked with the unclean animals, which a devout Jew would not so much as touch. He was in the class of swine, and because he was held to be a traitor and a congenital liar, he was ranked with robbers and murderers and was forbidden to give testimony in any Jewish court.

Edersheim states that there were two categories of publicani. The first, whom the Jews called gabbai, collected general taxes, which included those on land and other property, those on income, and those referred to as poll, or registration, taxes. The basic land tax (the amount paid to Rome) was a tenth of one’s grain and a fifth of one’s fruit and wine. Income tax amounted to one percent of one’s earnings, and the amount of the poll tax varied.

The second type of tax collector was called a mokhes, who collected a wide variety of use taxes—taxes similar to our import duties, tollway fees, boat docking fees, business license fees, and the like. The mokhes had almost unlimited latitude in their taxing powers and could attach a tax to virtually any article or activity. They could, for instance, levy a tax on a person’s boat, on the fish he caught with it, and on the dock where he unloaded it. They could tax a traveler’s donkey, his slaves and servants, and his goods. They had authority to open private letters to see if a taxable business of some sort might be related to the correspondence.

There were two kinds of mokhes. One kind, called the great mokhes, hired other men to collect taxes for them and, by virtue of partial anonymity, protected at least some of their reputation among their fellow countrymen. The other kind, called small mokhes, did their own assessing and collecting and therefore were in constant contact with members of the community as well as with all travelers who passed their way. The gabbai were despised, the great mokhes were more despised, and the small mokhes were despised most.

Matthew was obviously a small mokhes, because he himself was sitting in the tax office as Jesus passed through the outskirts of Capernaum. It was to that man, the most despised of the despicable, to whom Jesus said, Follow Me! It was clear to early readers of Matthew’s gospel, as it was clear to those who witnessed this amazing encounter, that Jesus extended His forgiveness even to the outcasts of society.

Although we are given no details of any words Matthew may have uttered in reply to Jesus’ call, it seems evident from the context that he had been under deep conviction of sin and spiritual need. Because of Jesus’ considerable teaching and miracle working in the region around Capernaum, Matthew would have been well acquainted with His ministry, whether or not he had personally listened to Jesus preach or seen Him perform a miracle. And although he did not seek Jesus out as did the centurion (Matt. 8:5) and the paralytic (9:2), Matthew seems to have been yearning for the forgiveness that the perverted system of Judaism told him he could never have. Therefore, when the Lord called him, he immediately rose, and followed Him.

Because of his modesty, Matthew does not mention the fact, but Luke tells us that the moment Jesus called him, Matthew “left everything behind, and rose and began to follow Him” (Luke 5:28). That simple call by Jesus was more than enough reason for Matthew to turn his back on everything he was and possessed. Because of his position as an agent of Rome, he knew that once he forsook his post he would never be able to return to it. He knew the cost and willingly paid it. Of all the disciples, Matthew doubtlessly made the greatest sacrifice of material possessions; yet he himself makes no mention of it. He felt with Paul that “whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ” (Phil. 3:7).

When a person is truly converted, he cannot leave his old life fast enough. His old habits, standards, and practices no longer appeal to him and he gladly longs to leave them behind. Edersheim says of Matthew, “He said not a word, for his soul was in the speechless surprise of unexpected grace.” Far from being depressed about what he left behind, his heart overflowed with joy. He lost a career but gained a destiny, lost his material possessions but gained a spiritual fortune, lost his temporal security but gained eternal life.

In one of her loveliest poems Amy Carmichael wrote,

I hear Him call, “Come, follow”;

That was all!

My gold grew dim.

My heart went after Him.

I rose and followed,

That was all.

Would you not follow,

If you heard Him call?

Like many new converts, Matthew’s first thought was to tell his friends about the Savior. He was so overwhelmed that he threw a banquet to present Jesus to his friends—all of whom, as tax-gatherers and sinners, were social and religious outcasts. We learn from Mark (2:15) and Luke (5:29) that the banquet was in Matthew’s own house, another fact that he modestly omits in his own account.

The tax-gatherers no doubt included the local gabbai of Capernaum and perhaps even some fellow mokhes from neighboring communities. The sinners doubtlessly included robbers, murderers, drunkards, prostitutes, and other irreligious and ungodly people. They were the riffraff of the area and must have been intrigued and touched by the prospect of dining with Jesus, whom they knew to be a teacher of righteousness, and His disciples.

It was probably because of this banquet that Jesus first gained the reputation among His opponents as “a gluttonous man and a drunkard, a friend of tax-gatherers and sinners” (Matt. 11:19; cf. Luke 15:2). Most religious Jews, and especially the proud and self-righteous scribes and Pharisees, could not conceive of any Jew socializing with such a group of sinners unless he were one of their own kind.

The Jews of Jesus’ day used the term hamartloi (sinners) almost as a technical term for people who had no concern or respect either for the Mosaic law or rabbinic traditions. They were looked on as the vilest and most wretched and worthless of all people. Yet it was some of these that Jesus and His disciples joined at the banquet in Matthew’s house.

Matthew’s response to Jesus’ call was immediate and positive, and his sincerity was evidenced by his eagerness to share his new faith and his new Master. In a similar way, the genuine faith of Zaccheus, another despised and wealthy tax-gatherer, was evidenced by his voluntary determination to share half his possessions with the poor and to repay four times whatever he had defrauded anyone (Luke 19:8).

We are not told what the group of tax-gatherers and sinners thought of Jesus either before or after the meal, but their response to Him was at least positive enough to eat with Him and listen to Him. The main point of the incident, however—and what most offended the Pharisees—was not that the tax-gatherers and sinners were willing to associate with Jesus but that Jesus was willing to associate with them.

THE NEGATIVE RESPONSE

And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to His disciples, “Why is your Teacher eating with the tax-gatherers and sinners?” (9:11)

The response of the Pharisees was quite different from Matthew’s. They were outraged that this Teacher who claimed to uphold standards of righteousness even higher than their own (see Matt. 5:20) would willingly sit down and eat with such a flagrantly sinful group. No doubt they were also resentful and humiliated that Jesus had never shown them such favor. If He were really a man of God, they reasoned, why had He not given a banquet for them, the exemplars and self-appointed custodians of religious purity?

The Pharisees did not confront Jesus head-on but instead cornered His disciples. Having learned of the banquet, these Jewish leaders waited outside to see what would happen and to exact an explanation of the unorthodox activity. The words Why is your Teacher eating with the tax-gatherers and sinners? were more a rebuke than a query. In the Pharisees’ own minds the question was largely rhetorical, and because they did not believe a satisfactory answer could be given, they were not asking a sincere question but were venting their hostility. The purpose was to put the disciples and their Teacher on the spot. As with their many other questions to and about Jesus, their motive was not to learn the truth but to entrap and convict this presumptuous upstart who was turning their religious system upside down.

Even at this relatively early stage in Jesus’ ministry, the Pharisees were becoming resentful and vindictive. Jesus had already said and done more than enough to establish Himself as an iconoclast who was at complete odds with almost everything they stood for and held sacred. They could see no defects in themselves and no good in those who were not like them. They were so pleased with themselves that they considered their enemies to be God’s enemies. They were so convinced of their own doctrinal rightness that any belief or standard contrary to their own was by definition heretical and ungodly. They were so convinced of their own moral and spiritual righteousness that anyone who questioned their holiness questioned God’s. The only thing Jesus could do that was worse than snubbing them, the religious and moral elite, was to befriend tax-gatherers and sinners, the religious and moral dregs. And He did both.

The Pharisees did not think they needed God’s forgiveness and were certain that tax-gatherers and sinners did not deserve it. Their “ministry” was not to help but to judge, not to restore but to condemn. They wanted no part of a Man who, contrarily, condemned their self-righteousness and offered forgiveness to obvious sinners.

THE ARGUMENTS

But when He heard this, He said, “It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick. But go and learn what this means, ‘I desire compassion, and not sacrifice,’ for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (9:12-13)

When Jesus heard this accusatory question, He answered it for the disciples. His doing so doubtlessly embarrassed the Pharisees and added to their indignation. The fact that they had approached His disciples suggests that the Pharisees were afraid to confront Jesus Himself, and His overhearing and responding to their obvious indictment of His actions was more than a little disconcerting.

Although Jesus was fully aware of the Pharisees’ true intent (cf. 9:4), He took their question at face value and explained exactly why He had done what He did. In His brief reply, He gave three arguments in defense of His gospel of forgiveness and reconciliation, the gospel that was reflected in His willingness to eat with the ungodly and immoral tax-gatherers and sinners.

THE ARGUMENT FROM HUMAN LOGIC

First of all, Jesus said, “It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick.” “If,” He was saying to the Pharisees, “you are really as spiritually and morally perfect as you claim to be, you do not need any help from God or other men. If you are indeed spiritually healthy, you do not need a spiritual physician. On the other hand, these tax-gatherers and sinners—who you declare, and they themselves admit, are spiritually sick—are the self-confessing sinners who need God’s way of salvation presented to them. They are the one’s who seek the spiritual physician, and that is why I am ministering to them.”

The analogy is simple. Just as a physician is expected to go among people who are sick, a forgiver should be expected to go among those who are sinful. Jesus was giving Himself to those who recognized their deepest need. What sort of doctor would spend all his time with healthy people and refuse to associate with those who are sick? “Are you doctors,” He implied to the Pharisees, “who diagnose but have no desire to cure? Will you tell a person what his disease is and then refuse to give him medicine for it?” What an indictment of their self-righteous hardheartedness! Those whom they diagnosed as sinful they were quite willing to let remain sinful.

As the Lord charged them later, the scribes and Pharisees were hypocrites who were careful to “tithe mint and dill and cummin” but had no regard for the matters of true righteousness, the “weightier provisions of the law” such as “justice and mercy and faithfulness” (Matt. 23:23). They had outward form but no inward holiness, much ritual but no righteousness. They loved to condemn but not uplift, to judge but not help, They loved themselves but not others, and proved themselves to be without the compassion and mercy that God’s law required—the law they vigorously claimed to teach, practice, and defend.

How could the Pharisees have missed or forgotten God’s wonderful and merciful declarations such as, “I, the Lord, am your healer” (Ex. 15:26). How could they neglect, and even resent, the healing of those whom God Himself desired to heal? Those who claimed to be well proved themselves to be sickest of all!

THE ARGUMENT FROM SCRIPTURE

Jesus’ second argument was directly from Scripture. “Go and learn,” He said, “what this means, ‘I desire compassion, and not sacrifice.’“ He pinned the Pharisees to the wall with their own Scripture. The phrase go and learn was commonly used in rabbinic writings to rebuke those who did not know what they should have known. Jesus used the Pharisees’ own most honored authorities to rebuke them for their ignorance of God’s true nature and of their failure to follow His clear commandments.

Jesus here quotes the prophet Hosea, through whom God said, “I delight in loyalty rather than sacrifice, and in the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hos. 6:6). “It is the perfect Word of God and not the flawed words of men that you should be concerned about,” Jesus was saying; “and His Word calls you to be merciful and forgiving, not judgmental and condemning.”

The fact that the quotation was from Hosea made it all the more pointed. The story of Gomer’s unfaithfulness to her husband Hosea was a living illustration of Israel’s own unfaithfulness to God; and Hosea’s continuing love and forgiveness of Gomer was a picture of the continuing love and forgiveness God offered Israel. And just as God then desired compassion rather than sacrifice, He still did. Without compassion, all the rituals, ceremonies, and sacrifices of the Pharisees were unacceptable to God. Without compassion they proved themselves to be more ungodly even than the despised tax-gatherers and sinners, who made no pretense of godliness.

God had divinely instituted the sacrificial system, and when the prescribed offerings were made to Him in a spirit of humility, penitence, and reverence, they were pleasing to Him. But when offered insincerely and in a spirit of self-righteousness and self-satisfaction, they became instead an abomination. The rituals and ceremonies were only as valid as the contriteness of the worshiper. And the person who sacrificed to God in genuine reverence would serve his fellow man in genuine compassion. Conversely, the person who is cold toward other people proves he is also cold toward God, no matter how orthodox his theology and how impeccable his external moral standards. The person who sees obvious sinners as those only to be condemned proves himself to be a greater sinner than they. Those who are furthest from giving mercy are furthest from receiving it (see Matt. 6:15; 18:23-35).

God is never pleased with religious routine and activity that does not come from sincere love of Him and of other people. Ritual separated from righteousness is a sham and an affront to God. “I hate, I reject your festivals,” God declared to Israel. “Nor do I delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer up to Me burnt offerings and your grain offerings, I will not accept them; and I will not even look at the peace offerings of your fatlings. Take away from Me the noise of your songs; I will not even listen to the sound of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:21-24).

THE ARGUMENT FROM HIS OWN AUTHORITY

Third, Jesus defended His work on the basis of His own authority: I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners. He gladly associated and identified with tax-gatherers and other sinners, because they are the ones who needed Him. The parallel passage in Luke 5:32, and some Greek texts and English translations of Matthew 9:13, include the ending phrase, “to repentance.” It is the repentant person, the person who is sinful and who acknowledges and turns from his sin, who is the object of Jesus’ divine call. The person who is sinful but thinks he is righteous shuts himself out from God’s mercy, because he refuses to acknowledge his need of it. He rejects Jesus’ call to salvation because he rejects the idea of his lostness.

In response to a later similar charge by the Pharisees and scribes that He “receives sinners and eats with them” (Luke 15:2), Jesus gave three illustrations of God’s concern for and forgiveness of the penitent sinner. Through the stories of the lost sheep and lost coin He pointed up the truth that “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (v. 7; cf. v. 10). In the story of the prodigal son He dramatically illustrated the double-sided truth that God is overjoyed with a humble sinner who repents and is grieved by the self-righteous person (represented by the older brother) who is himself unforgiving of others and even resents God’s forgiveness of them (see espec. vv. 21-32).

Kale (to call) was often used of inviting a guest to one’s home for food and lodging. The inference here is clear. Jesus did not come to call the self-righteous to salvation for the same reason He did not call the Pharisees to recline with Him at the dinner in Matthew’s house. They were too good in their own eyes to condescend to such humiliation. And because they would not identify themselves with fellow sinners, they could not be identified with Christ, who offers salvation only to sinners who willingly acknowledge they are sinners.

“Because you consider yourselves already righteous,” the Lord was saying, “I have not come to call you. Because you are satisfied with yourselves, I will leave you to yourselves.” The Pharisee who stood proudly in the Temple and thanked God for his own goodness saw no need for forgiveness and thus was not forgiven. But the penitent, heart-broken tax-gatherer who beat his breast and cried out, “God, be merciful to me, the sinner!… went down to his house justified” (Luke 18:10-14). At that same Temple, Jesus said to a group of Pharisees, “I go away, and you shall seek Me, and shall die in your sin; where I am going, you cannot come” (John 8:21; cf. v. 24). The one who thinks he is righteous and spiritually safe without Christ has no part in Christ, who came to call… sinners. He cannot seek and save those who will not recognize they are lost (see Luke 19:10). Logic, Scripture, and Jesus Himself together affirm that forgiveness is for the sinful and salvation is for the lost.

In one of His last parables Jesus graphically portrayed that truth. He pictured His kingdom as a great royal wedding feast for the king’s son, for which the king had sent out many invitations. When the previously invited guests, who represented Israel, were called at the appointed time but were unwilling to come, the king several times sent his servants out again to plead with them to reconsider. When they still refused, and mistreated and killed some of the servants, the enraged king ordered his armies to destroy the murderers and set their city on fire. He then sent servants throughout the rest of the kingdom, even to the most out-of-the-way places, to gather all they could find and bring them to the feast (see Matt. 22:1-10; cf. 21:33-46). That was the message He gave to the Pharisees at Capernaum. As Jews, they were the already invited guests to the Lord’s banquet, but they refused to attend and acted with hostility toward the messengers. Therefore, just as they stood outside Matthew’s house and watched the tax-gatherers and sinners eat with Jesus, they would also stand outside God’s kingdom and watch every sort of repentant sinner and outcast be welcomed into it.

The kingdom of God is for the spiritually sick who want to be healed, the spiritually corrupt who want to be cleansed, the spiritually poor who want to be rich, the spiritually hungry who want to be fed, the spiritually dead who want to be made alive. It is for ungodly outcasts who long to become God’s own beloved children.

THE ILLUSTRATIONS

We do not know how long after Jesus’ encounter with the Pharisees the disciples of John came to Him, but the logical relation of their question to that of the Pharisees is clear. Unlike that of the Pharisees, the question of John’s disciples was sincere, but it reflected a similar concern about Jesus’ teaching and activities that did not conform to the accepted religious standards.

Shortly after he baptized Jesus, John the Baptist in effect turned his disciples over to Jesus, saying, “You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ,’ but, ‘I have been sent before Him.’. . . He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:28, 30). Not all of the disciples of John began to follow Jesus, however, and even long after Pentecost the apostle Paul encountered some of them in Ephesus who knew no more of the faith than “John’s baptism” (Acts 19:1-3).

John the Baptist was then in prison (see Matt. 4:12), and those of his disciples who had not begun to follow Jesus were left only with their traditional Jewish ceremonies and practices. Unlike the Pharisees outside Matthew’s house, they came to Him (Jesus) directly, saying, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but Your disciples do not fast?” The Old Testament prescribed only one fast, the one on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement (see Lev. 16:29,31, where the phrase “humble your souls” [from the Heb. ‘nâ“to afflict or humble”] commonly included the idea of refraining from food). But Jewish tradition had come to require fasting twice a week (see Luke 18:12), and these disciples were careful to follow that practice.

Along with alms giving and certain prescribed prayers, twice-weekly fasting was one of the three major expressions of orthodox Judaism during Jesus’ day. The scribes and Pharisees looked on these practices with great seriousness and were careful not only to follow them faithfully but to do so as publicly and ostentatiously as possible—ostensibly as a testimony to true godliness but in reality as a testimony to their own self-styled piety. When they gave alms, they blew trumpets “in the synagogues and in the streets” in order to “be honored by men” (Matt. 6:2). When they prayed “in the synagogues and on the street corners,” they did so “to be seen by men” (v. 5). And when they fasted, they “put on a gloomy face” and neglected their “appearance in order to be seen fasting by men” (v. 16). They did not see religion as a matter of humility, repentance, or forgiveness, but as a matter of ceremony and proud display. And therefore the external rituals which they paraded as badges of godly righteousness actually marked them as ungodly hypocrites, as Jesus declared in each of the three verses just cited (cf. 5:20).

Religious ritual and routine have always been dangers to true godliness. Many ceremonies, such as praying to saints and lighting a candle for a deceased relative are actually heretical. But even if it is not wrong in itself, when a form of praying, worshiping, or serving becomes the focus of attention, it becomes a barrier to true righteousness. It can keep an unbeliever from trusting in God and a believer from faithfully obeying Him. Even going to church, reading the Bible, saying grace at meals, and singing hymns can become lifeless routines in which true worship of God has no part.

Jesus first replied to John’s disciples by saying, The attendants of the bridegroom cannot mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them, can they? But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.

In those days a wedding would usually last seven days, and the bridegroom would choose his best friends as attendants to be responsible for the festivities. The wedding celebration was not a time for them to mourn but to rejoice. Jesus’ point was that it was inappropriate for His followers to mourn and fast while He was with them in person. The insincere, superficial, and hypocritical fasting practiced by the Pharisees was, of course, always out of place. But even sincere fasting was out of place as long as Jesus, the divine bridegroom, was still among His people. Their fasting was out of harmony with what God was then doing in their midst. There was no connection between their ritual and spiritual reality.

A fast is always meaningless if it is performed from habit and does not result from deep concern and mourning over some spiritual need. Going to church on Sunday is hypocritical if it is done apart from a genuine desire to worship and glorify God. Singing a hymn is only a pretense of worship if it does not come from a heart that seeks to praise the Lord.

The days will come, Jesus explained, when the bridegroom is taken away. Taken away is from apair, which can carry the idea of sudden removal, of being snatched away violently. Jesus was obviously referring to His crucifixion, which would abruptly and violently take Him away from His followers, His faithful attendants. That will be the time for mourning, and then they will fast.

But for the present time, He was saying, fasting was inappropriate. When there is no reason to mourn there is no reason to fast. Fasting springs naturally from a broken and grieving heart, but fasting as a shallow spiritual ritual apart from such brokenness is an affront to God.

But an even more important issue was behind the question of John’s disciples. Since they obviously had not become disciples of Jesus as John had instructed them to do, they had no basis for genuine faith. But it was clear to them, as it was to the Pharisees, that Jesus’ teaching and activities were radically different from those of traditional Judaism. Consequently, behind their question about fasting may have been a deeper concern about forgiveness. “Why,” they may really have been wondering, “do You emphasize internal things such as forgiveness, while our recognized religious leaders only emphasize external things such as fasting?”

Jesus’ next two illustrations deal with that issue. He made clear that He was not teaching a reformed Pharisaism or a reformed rabbinicalism but an entirely different way of believing, thinking, and living. He did not come to improve the old system but to renounce and undermine it. His way had nothing to do with the old ways, and the old ways had no part in the new. The two ways cannot be connected to one another or be contained one in the other.

To illustrate the truth that His new way cannot be connected to the old way, Jesus went on to say, No one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and a worse tear results. Cloth of that day was primarily wool or linen, and both would shrink when washed. If a patch of new, unshrunk, cloth is sewn on an old garment, Jesus reminded them, then the first time the garment is washed, the new patch shrinks and pulls away from the garment, making a worse tear than before. In the same way, Jesus’ new and internal gospel of forgiveness and cleansing cannot be attached to the old and external traditions of self-righteousness and ritual.

To illustrate the truth that His new way also cannot be contained in the old way, Jesus said, Nor do men put new wine into old wineskins; otherwise the wineskins burst, and the wine pours out, and the wineskins are ruined.

Wine was often stored in animal skins that were specially prepared for that purpose. The hide would be uncut except at the legs and neck, and sometimes would be turned inside out. The leg openings would be stitched closed and sealed, and the neck was used as a spout, which was tied with a leather thong or string. Old wineskins would eventually dry out and become brittle, and if someone then put new wine into them, they would crack and burst, spilling the wine . . . out. The only suitable container for new wine is a fresh wineskin. In the same way, the only life that can contain true righteousness is the new life given by God when a person repents of his sin and trusts in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

The pharisaical, legalistic, external, self-righteous system of traditional Judaism could neither connect with nor contain the ministry and message of Christ. Consequently, that system had only one option—to oppose and seek to eliminate Christ, which is what it did.

It should be made clear that Jesus’ doing away with the old and bringing in the new did not refer to setting aside the divine law and ushering in grace—as many interpreters have claimed throughout church history, and as some still claim today. Nothing could be further from the truth. Jesus categorically declared that He did not come to destroy the law but to fulfill it and that any opponent of the law was an opponent of God (Matt. 5:17-19). God’s law and His grace have always coexisted and have always been perfectly compatible. The old wineskins were not the teachings of the Old Testament but the rabbinical traditions that had come to overshadow, supersede, and often contradict the divinely revealed truths of the Old Testament.

In this passage we can discover three marks of the true believer. First, like Matthew, the true believer follows the Lord. He leads a life of unquestioning obedience. Matthew made no conditions or excuses; he simply “rose, and followed Him” (v. 9). During a postresurrection appearance, Jesus said to Peter, “Follow Me!” But “Peter, turning around, saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them; . . . [and] therefore seeing him said to Jesus, ‘Lord, and what about this man?’Jesus said to him, ‘If I want him to remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow Me!’” John 21:19-22). The true believer is not always questioning God’s truth and resisting His standards for living.

Second, the true believer has compassion on the unsaved. Like Matthew, he has a deep desire to lead others to Christ. That desire may sometimes get cluttered over with selfish concerns, but it will be there. Because we know “the fear of the Lord, we persuade men” to come to Him for salvation (2 Cor. 5:11); and if “the love of Christ controls us” (v. 14), that love will prompt us to witness of Him to others. Both our love of the unsaved and our love of Christ motivate us to be His instruments as He seeks and saves the lost (Luke 19:10). The indwelling Spirit of Christ gives compassion for the lost, and the person who has no desire to win the lost has no basis for claiming Christ or His Holy Spirit.

Third, a true believer forsakes legalism and ritualism. He fasts only as an expression of genuine spiritual concern, and he does not try to attach his new life in Christ to his old ritual or religion or try to fit it somehow into his old patterns. He knows they are incompatible and utterly contrary. He knows that what is begun in the Spirit cannot be completed in the flesh (Gal. 3:3). The genuine righteousness of a forgiven and cleansed heart cannot be enhanced or supplemented by external religious works. Freedom in Christ has no part in the bondage of legalism.

In a hymn that chronicles his own conversion, John Newton movingly describes the transforming power of Christ:

In evil long I took delight,

Unawed by shame or fear,

Till a new object struck my sight,

And stopped my wild career.

I saw One hanging on a tree,

In agony and blood;

He fixed His loving eyes on me,

As near His cross I stood.

How can it be, upon a tree

The Savior died for Me?

My soul is thrilled, my heart is filled,

To think He died for me.