All of the four Gospels record an event in which a woman came to Jesus during a meal and anointed his feet and dried them with her hair (Matthew 26, Mark 14, Luke 7, John 12).  Many feel that Luke’s account refers to an event in Galilee early in Jesus’ ministry, while the stories told by Matthew, Mark, and John refer to a separate nearly identical event occurring in Bethany near the end of Jesus’ life.   Some even divide these latter three stories into separate events because John apparently says the event he described occurred “six days before the Passover” (John 12:1), while Matthew and Mark say the event occurred “two days before Passover” (Matthew 26:2, Mark 14:1).

But this confusion fails to put the various accounts together properly.  For one thing, John does not say the woman anointed Jesus six days before Passover. What he says is: “Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead.  Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor” (John 12:1). John says Jesus came to Bethany six days before Passover, and that at some point while he was there a dinner was given in his honor.  So there is no contradiction between the accounts of Matthew, Mark and John in this regard.

As for the account in Luke, that story does not say where the event took place –  or when, though it is placed with other material from the early part of Jesus’ ministry.  Although many presume that Luke’s “orderly” (Luke 1:3) account is chronological, it does, in fact, often stray from a chronological sequence.  For example, in Luke 3 we read that King Herod shut John the Baptist up in prison (Luke 3:19-20), but then we read in the following verses that Jesus was baptized by John (Luke 3:21-22).  In reality, of course, John baptized Jesus before being placed in prison (Matthew 3:1-17; 4:12; John 1:29-34).  An even more striking example of “achronological” recording is seen at the end of Luke’s Gospel where he appears to compress the five weeks between the resurrection of Jesus and his ascension into a single day – if we treat what is said chronologically (compare Luke  24 with Matthew 28 and John 21).

As for differences in the anointing stories, they are small and easily explained. For example, Mathew and Mark say the woman anointed Jesus’ head; the other Gospels say his feet were anointed. But the woman may well have anointed Christ’s head and feet – recorded differently according to the stress the individual Gospel writers had in mind (for a kingly anointing, or an anointing for burial). 
 
Luke’s account says the event occurred in the home of a Pharisee named Simon; the others say it was in the home of Simon the Leper in Bethany. But Simon the Leper and Simon the Pharisee were probably one and the same.  A leper could never have hosted a dinner nor have partaken in one with other people – Simon the Leper must have been healed and could thus have been the same as Simon the Pharisee.  Simon may well have been referred to as “the Pharisee” in Luke because Luke stresses Jesus’ reply to Simon’s pharisaical and self-righteous attitude, while the other Gospels remember him as Simon the Leper.

So there is no real reason why all the Gospel accounts could not be referring to the same thing. That being the case, consider the probability that they are, in fact, simply different accounts of the same event.   It would be a strange coincidence if two different women (or more!) had gone to the house of a man called Simon, had anointed Jesus with exactly the same amount (300 denarii worth) of exactly the same kind of expensive perfume (nard), and had wiped his feet with their hair.  If they were different women, why did the Gospel writers not differentiate them in some way?  On the other hand, that Mary sister of Martha was the one woman who anointed Christ may perhaps be seen earlier in John’s account where he tells us: “(This Mary… was the same one who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped his feet with her hair.)” (John 11:2).  Note that John says “the same one who” rather than “one of the women who.”

It would also be strange if not one of the four Gospel writers recorded both or all stories, if multiple similar events had occurred.  This is especially true considering Jesus’ words in Mark 14:9: “Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” Would Christ have put so much emphasis on this event if it was the second instance of two virtually identical cases?  If this had been done by two different women, surely both would be clearly recorded.

Beyond these facts, we should remember that in John (12:4-5) we are told Judas complained that the perfume used to anoint Jesus was worth 300 denarii and the money could have been given to the poor, but is rebuked by Jesus who tells him to leave the woman alone as she has done a good work.  In Matthew (26:9) and Mark (14:4) we are told that some of the disciples made exactly the same complaint (“300 denarii”) and were rebuked in the same way by Christ. Are we to believe that given identical circumstances, the disciples made exactly the same mistake after Jesus had already rebuked them for it just a few days before?  It is much more reasonable to put the Gospel accounts together and to see that they refer, with differing details, to one dinner, one woman, and one anointing of Jesus.

Regardless of how many women were involved in these Gospel stories, however, they teach lessons that we can apply in our own lives.  The attitude of love they exhibit is one we can all strive to imitate. How?  Just as love was shown to Christ through the gift given for his physical body, we too can give gifts to the Body of Christ, which is his Church (Romans 12:5; 1 Corinthians 12:12–13; Ephesians 3:6, 5:23; Colossians 1:18, 24; etc.).  The lessons of human love and godly forgiveness* that underlie these stories are ones which are indeed, timeless (Mark 14:9).
 
* Our article “Are Simon the Leper and Simon the Pharisee the Same? – and Why it Matters” shows a practical lesson we can all learn from these accounts, here.  
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​“Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!" And having said this he breathed his last” (Luke 23:46 ESV).

“When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, "It is finished," and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit” (John 19:30 ESV).

On the surface, the accounts of Luke and John certainly might seem to be at variance with each other regarding the last words of Jesus, but when we look more closely we find little reason to see any contradiction.

First, we should notice that while Luke specifically says “…having said this he breathed his last,” the wording of John’s Gospel “… and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit” does not necessarily preclude intervening words – it could simply mean that moments or minutes after receiving the wine, Jesus died. 

Note that while Luke focuses specifically on Jesus’ last words – and calls them exactly that – John seems to focus on the sour wine event and its resultant “It is finished” as the final prophecies fulfilled by Christ. This is typical of Luke’s frequent focus on the humanity of Jesus and his actual words, as opposed to John’s focus on Jesus’ fulfillment of prophecies relating to the Messiah and details regarding the message of salvation.

But there is no real reason to think that both accounts were not true.  Jesus’ last words may have been a combination of what John and Luke record: “It is finished. Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”   If these were the actual and full last words of Jesus, then the two Gospel writers simply recorded that part of the expression which was of most importance to their own accounts.

It is also sometimes said that both Luke and John are contradicted by Matthew and Mark, whose Gospels both record Jesus’ expression “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” as his last words.  But both Matthew and Mark write that, soon after this, Jesus gave a loud cry: “And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit” (Matthew 27:50); “With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last” (Mark 15:37).

But these accounts do not say whether the “loud cry” or “loud voice” contained words or not. If the cry contained words, it was doubtless those recorded by Luke and John.  The reason that the other two Gospels say a “voice” or “cry” was probably because they are based on the account of a witness of the crucifixion who was close enough to hear the cry, but not close enough to make out the exact words.  (Both Matthew and Mark agree that many of the witnesses stood “at a distance” from the cross – Matthew 27:55, Mark 15:40).

When we keep both factors in mind: that Luke and John compiled their Gospels stressing different themes, and that Matthew and Mark may well have drawn their information from different witnesses, there is no need to presume any contradiction between the four Gospels as to the last words of Jesus.

By Kevin DeYoung *

Everyone who knows anything about the gospels—and even those who don’t—knows that Jesus was a friend of sinners. He often drew the ire of the scribes and Pharisees for eating with sinners (Luke 15:2). Jesus clearly recognized that one of the insults hurled against him was that he was “a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!” (Luke 7:34). As Christians we love to sing of this Pharisaical put-down because it means that Jesus is a friend to sinners like us. We also find ourselves challenged by Jesus’ example to make sure we do not turn away outsiders in a way that Jesus never would.

As precious as this truth is—that Jesus is a friend of sinners—it, like every other precious truth in the Bible, needs to be safeguarded against doctrinal and ethical error. It is all too easy, and amazingly common, for Christians (or non-Christians) to take the general truth that Jesus was a friend of sinners and twist it all out of biblical recognition. So “Jesus ate with sinners” becomes “Jesus loved a good party,” which becomes “Jesus was more interested in showing love than taking sides,” which becomes “Jesus always sided with religious outsiders,” which becomes “Jesus would blow bubbles for violations of the Torah.”

Here we have an example of a whole truth being used for a half truth in the service of a lie. Once, as a younger man in ministry, I made an offhanded comment about how Jesus “hung out with drunks.” I was gently and wisely corrected by an older Christian who had himself overcome alcohol addiction. He challenged me to find anywhere in Scripture where Jesus was just “hanging out” with people in a state of drunkenness. In an effort to accentuate the grace of Christ, I stepped beyond (around, over, and away) from the biblical text and made it sound like Jesus loved nothing more than to yuck it up with John Belushi in Animal House.

If we are to celebrate that the Lord Jesus is a glorious friend of sinners—and we should—we must pay careful attention to the ways in which Jesus actually was a friend to sinners. Omitting the story of the woman caught in adultery (for reasons of textual criticism), I count five main passages in the gospels where Jesus is chastised for getting too close to sinners.
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1. Matthew 9:9-13; Mark 2:13-17; Luke 5:27-32 – This is the story of Jesus calling Matthew the tax collector to be his disciple. We find Jesus reclining at table with many tax collectors and sinners, “for there were many who followed him” (Mark 2:15). When the scribes and Pharisees grumble about the company he keeps, Jesus tells them that he has “not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:32).
2. Matthew 11:16-19; Luke 7:31-35 – Here Jesus rebukes the “people of this generation” because they rejected John the Baptist for being too tight and reject the Son of Man for being too loose. It’s from this incident that we get the phrase “friend of sinners.” We should note that it was an insult heaped upon Jesus by his enemies. This doesn’t mean Christ didn’t own it and we shouldn’t sing it, but it suggests he may not have owned it in every way. If Jesus was not a “glutton and drunkard” as his opponents thoughts, so he may not have been “a friend of tax collectors and sinners” in exactly the way they imagined either.
3. Luke 7:36-50 – Right on the heels of this story comes another one like it in Luke. A sinful woman anoints Jesus with expensive ointment and wipes Jesus’ feet with her tears and the hair of her head. When Jesus is corrected for letting this “sinner” touch him, he reminds Simon that those who are forgiven much love much. In the end, Jesus forgives the woman her sin and announces “Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (Luke 7:50).
4. Luke 15:1-2 – The setting for the parables of the lost sheep, lost coin, and lost son of Luke 15 is found in the first two verses of that chapter. As the tax collectors and sinners “were all drawing near” to Jesus, the Pharisees and scribes grumbled that Jesus was receiving them to eat with them. The three parables that follow demonstrate how God seeks out the lost (15:3, 8, 20) and how pleased God is when sinners repent (15:7, 10, 21-24).
5. Luke 19:1-10 – Again, the Jewish leaders grumble because Jesus “has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner” (Luke 19:7) Though Zacchaeus repents and is a changed man (19:8), the Jews simply cannot accept that the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost (19:10) and that this notorious tax collector has been saved (19:9).

​So what lessons can we draw from these episodes? In what way was Jesus a friend of sinners? Did he have a grand strategy for reaching tax collectors? Did he indiscriminately “hang out” with drunks and prostitutes? Was he an easy going live-and-let-live kind of Messiah? What we see from the composite of these passages is that sinners were drawn to Jesus, that Jesus gladly spent time with sinners who were open to his teaching, that Jesus forgave repentant sinners, and that Jesus embraced sinners who believed in him.
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Jesus was a friend of sinners not because he winked at sin, ignored sin, or enjoyed light-hearted revelry with those engaged in immorality. Jesus was a friend of sinners in that he came to save sinners and was very pleased to welcome sinners who were open to the gospel, sorry for their sins, and on their way to putting their faith in Him.

*Republished with permission from The Gospel Coalition website.

The star that appeared to the wise men in the East announcing the birth of Christ and which led them to him (Matthew 2:1-9) shone brightly till its purpose was fulfilled, then it disappeared from view.  In a similar manner, John the Baptist, who was called the “greatest of those born of women” (Matthew 11:11), accomplished a short intense ministry aimed also at announcing and pointing to the Christ, then likewise faded from view.  

The star that heralded Jesus’ birth, bright as it appeared, was to be obscured by the one to whom it pointed – the Messiah himself.  Here we also see a parallel with John the Baptist.  As Christ affirmed, “He was a burning and shining lamp” (John 5:35), but John nevertheless  came only as a witness because “The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world” (John 1:8-9). Once Jesus’ ministry began,  John’s  “light” was dimmed by the rising of his successor.  As John himself said using this very analogy, “He must wax, but I must wane” (John 3:30).  But like the heavenly star that also preceded the Messiah’s birth,  John the Baptist’s job was fully accomplished in the short but intense work which God intended for him. Both were powerful witnesses to the coming of the Messiah.

How does this apply to us?  Although we may not live in the age which saw a heavenly light or a great prophetic “light” like John the Baptist pointing to Christ, the apostle Peter reminds us that “We also have the prophetic message as something completely reliable, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts” (2 Peter 1:19).  That “morning star”  is Christ himself (Revelation 22:16); and the “prophetic message” is not so much all of prophecy as it is the prophetic message regarding the meaning and purpose of the coming of Christ.

The star of the nativity, the “lamp” of John the Baptist, and the “light shining in a dark place” were different announcements made available to different groups of people: the first to only a select few, the second to all who heard John, the third to all who come in contact with the word of God throughout the whole world.    The three forms of announcement also increased in the level of understanding they provided those to whom they were given.  Bright as the heavenly star may have appeared, powerful as John’s testimony may have been, we can be thankful that the announcement that has come to us is the fullest, clearest and most profound light of all. ​

​The four Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – lie at the very heart of Christianity, recording its most essential teachings and providing us with most of what we know about the person of Jesus Christ, his fulfillments of Old Testament prophecies, his message, and his true identity. Without them the rest of the New Testament would not make any sense, and we would have no idea of the true significance of a great deal of what is written in the Old Testament.  

Yet many Christians do not know why there are four Gospels, exactly how they differ, or what their unique lessons are. This book answers those questions by looking at the “stage,” the “actors,” and the “story” of the Gospels and by providing background and perspective that can greatly increase your understanding of their message. The four Gospels are certainly among the most important books of the Bible. Isn’t it time you got to know them better?  

​Our free new book Inside The Four Gospels is available in formats for computer, e-book reader and smart phone.  Download a copy here.

​“When Jesus … saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Matthew 14:14).

It’s easy to read right over simple verses like this in the New Testament and not notice things.

First, it’s easy to miss what is actually said  – that Jesus didn’t just have compassion on the sick in the multitude, he had compassion on the whole crowd, which led to his intervening wherever there was a need.

That means that Jesus didn’t just see and have compassion on the noticeable members of the crowd – the blind, the lame and those clearly afflicted with diseases and problems. It means he had compassion on the ones who were helping carry the lame, lead the blind and support the weak. It means he had compassion on the ones we might not notice as readily in a crowd – the shy, the grieving, the lonely and the discouraged.

Second, it’s easy – of course – not to see what’s not said.  When we read the accounts of Jesus’ works, we tend to read them in a vacuum; but we have to remember how much the Gospel writers are summarizing each incident.  When Jesus had compassion on the crowds, we get only the highlights of the healings – a kind of Gospel triage in which the most important healings and significant signs were recorded.  But in having compassion on the crowds – not just the sick in the crowds – would Jesus not have noticed people with less obvious problems and had compassion on them also?

Surely Jesus saw the loneliness in the eyes of some and, having compassion, offered them a warm and accepting smile. Surely he saw the discouragement in the faces of others (Luke 18:24) and offered a few words of encouragement.  In every case in the New Testament where we are told Jesus had compassion on people, he followed it with action; and having compassion on the crowds doubtless meant he interacted with and helped many more than the few people on whom he performed miracles of  healing.

Perhaps we may feel we do not interact with crowds in the same way, but the totality of people we see and pass by as well as those we actually meet and with whom we interact in a day is often a small crowd, and for some of us a large one.  If we are followers of Jesus, do we have compassion on that daily “crowd”? Do we seek to encourage and to smile, to check that people are all right?  These may seem like small things and may seem hard to do in our over-crowded and impersonal world.  But following in Christ’s footsteps means doing the things he did to the extent we can. 

We know that God pays attention and knows the hairs on our heads, though we don’t tend to think of that in perspective of the teeming world  of billions in which we live. But God does see every face in the crowd, and in his physical life the Son of God doubtless did his best to do so also.  We are not just a face in the crowd to God, and no one in the crowd should be just a face to us.

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).
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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.

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.
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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. 

The Sermon on the Mount is a central part of the teachings of Jesus that we all know and love – it  demonstrates the essential nature of the Christian way of life as much as any part of Scripture. Many of us have memorized parts of the sermon as found in Matthew’s Gospel (chapters 5-7), but how much time have we spent thinking about the setting of the sermon as opposed to the sermon itself?
 
We tend to take for granted that the sermon was given on a mountain because we know that Jesus frequently climbed mountains (Luke 6:12, John 6:15, etc.) – though he usually did this to get away from people, to be alone and to pray.   In this case we are told he specifically went up on a mountain with his disciples following him.

The New International Version tells us “Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them” (Matthew 5:1-2).  This gives the impression that Jesus simply went up on the side of a mountain – the lower slopes.  But “side” is not in the original Greek (or in most translations), and the Greek anebē  eis to oros  “he went up into a mountain” conveys the sense that he ascended  on to the mountain – certainly well up toward, or to, its summit.
 
Now this wording is interesting, because when we compare it with the Old Testament account of how Moses went up onto Mt. Sinai to receive the law from God, we find “When Moses went up on the mountain …” (Exodus 19:3, 24:12).  In fact, the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures which many of the writers of the New Testament used, translates this with exactly the same words as those used of Jesus ascending the mountain: anebē  eis to oros.

Many Jewish readers of the 1st century would have recognized the beginning of this story of the Sermon on the Mount as being identical to the beginning of the story of Moses receiving God’s law.  This would have struck a deep chord for those readers because every devout Jew knew that God had told Moses:   “I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their fellow Israelites, and I will put my words in his mouth. He will tell them everything I command him” (Deuteronomy 18:18). Every devout Jew expected this prophet like Moses, and the similarities between Jesus and Moses were clear for those ancient readers who knew the Hebrew Scriptures. 

For example, the infant Moses and Jesus both escaped death when a ruler attempted to kill the male Jewish children in the area, both hid in Egypt as a child, both gave up  life in a kingly home to lead a humble life of service,  both fasted forty days and nights, both communicated directly with God, both performed miracles, both provided the people with bread to eat, both sent out 12 individuals, both chose 70 individuals, both taught with authority – and both ascended a mountain for the giving of  key commands and instruction from God. 

With that background in mind, we can see the significance of the fact that throughout the first third of the Sermon on the Mount the law of Moses is mentioned repeatedly, using the formula “You have heard that it was said to the people long ago …. But I tell you ….”  For example:

“You have heard that it was said to the people long ago ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment” ​ (Matthew 5:21-22, and see also Matthew 5:27, 31, 38, 43). 

Within the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus made it clear to his followers that he was not doing away with or replacing the principles of the law given through Moses (Matthew 5:17-19). Instead, in this pivotal sermon – the longest connected teaching of Jesus in the New Testament – he gave new insight into God’s spiritual laws, raising our understanding of their intent to the higher level to which we are called.

Three accounts in the New Testament tell us how, on different occasions, Jesus healed individuals in what seem to be very strange ways.

In the first case, near Decapolis Jesus healed a man who was deaf and near-mute by putting his fingers into the man’s ears, then spitting and touching the man’s tongue (Mark 7:31-37). Later, in Bethsaida, he healed a blind man by spitting on the man’s eyes and putting his hands on him (Mark 8:22-26). On another occasion, in Jerusalem Jesus healed a man born blind by spitting on the ground, making mud with the saliva, and putting it on the man’s eyes (John 9:6).

Numerous suggestions have been made to explain why Jesus utilized such strange actions in the course of these healings.  Perhaps the most common explanation is that he was “recreating” the person’s hearing or sight using mud as a symbol of the original creation of man from the “dust of the earth” (Genesis 2:7). This might account for the possible reference to creation made by those who witnessed the miracle recorded in John: “Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind” (John 9:32 ESV).  But this may be no more than an expression (Acts 3:21, etc.), and the idea does not explain the use of saliva alone in the two accounts that do not mention mud. 

Another explanation is that just as he rejected human religious traditions in other cases, Jesus used mud in direct contradiction of Jewish traditions that prohibited healing on the Sabbath by mixing mud with spittle. This idea is based on the fact that the Mishnah specifically states  “To heal a blind man on the Sabbath it is prohibited to inject wine in his eyes. It is also prohibited to make mud with spittle and smear it on his eyes” (Shabbat 108:20), but apart from the fact that, again, only one of the three recorded miracles involved making mud, the Mishnah dates to after the time of Jesus.  It is even possible that the prohibition against healing with mud and spittle came about as a result of Christ’s miracle.

A better understanding of these miracles is gained by considering the evidence we find in the Book of  John.  It is important to remember that John’s Gospel does not simply follow the pattern of the other three Gospels which were written much earlier. Instead, John – who doubtless had seen the other Gospels – went to lengths to supplement their accounts with additional information that he remembered, but which the other Gospels did not include.

Keeping this in mind, it is important to note the context of John’s account. In John chapter 8 the apostle carefully records an extended argument between Jesus and the Jews who opposed him.  Throughout this account we see that Jesus repeatedly stressed his Sonship and relationship with the Father: “Then they asked him, “Where is your father?” “You do not know me or my Father,” Jesus replied. “If you knew me, you would know my Father also”( John 8:19),  “They did not understand that he was telling them about his Father” (John 8:27, etc.).  At one point in this chapter the Jews even made a thinly veiled accusation against Jesus “…We are not illegitimate children…” (John 8:41), and Jesus’ response was to stress, once again, his true Sonship: “… If God were your Father, you would love me, for I have come here from God. I have not come on my own; God sent me … My Father, whom you claim as your God, is the one who glorifies me” (John 8:42, 54).

Now, getting back to the mud and spit miracles, we should note that saliva was widely believed to have healing properties in the ancient world. For example, the classical writers Celsus, Galen, and Pliny all mention its medicinal properties – especially the saliva of distinguished persons – and it is even said that the Emperor Vespasian was urged to spit in the eyes of a blind man in order to heal him.  So it is perhaps not surprising that the Jews of the First Century seem to have had a tradition that the saliva of a legitimate, firstborn heir could have healing properties against several infirmities – including blindness (Talmud, Bava Batra 126b).

So given the widespread beliefs in its medicinal properties, it is possible that Jesus used saliva in some of his healings as a physical sign that he was healing the person involved.  But the background  of  Jesus’ legitimacy and Sonship found throughout John chapter 8 suggests that it was this issue that was the specific context for the healing in John 9 – and perhaps the other, related situations.  By using saliva in these healings, Jesus demonstrated not only his ability to perform miracles, but also that he was indeed a legitimate and firstborn son – the Firstborn Son of God.

​The Book of John tells two stories, back to back, of encounters between Jesus and individuals who came to him  alone.  Rather than being part of the crowds that thronged Jesus daily, these individuals talked with him privately. One sought him out in the dark of night and the other was approached by him under the blazing sun at noon.  The two individuals were the priest Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman Jesus met at the well. The two stories, told in conjunction by John, clearly contrast in a number of ways, but also share something in common.

Nicodemus, a prominent Pharisee and ultra-righteous member of the Jewish Sanhedrin, came to Jesus, John tells us, “by night” (John 3:1-21) in order to question him about his teachings.  Nicodemus was part of the religious establishment of the time, and he clearly went to Jesus under the cover of darkness so as not to be seen and recognized. John’s record of the conversation between Jesus and the Pharisee shows us that Nicodemus  was beginning to believe the truth, but he held back because of the opinions of his friends and colleagues. 

The Samaritan woman Jesus met at the well outside the city of Sychar in Samaria came to draw water around noon (John 4:4-42), which was the hottest time of day when the fewest people would be at the well. It is unlikely that anyone would purposely plan a trip to the well at that time unless they wanted to avoid people.  But, as someone doubtless shunned or shamed by her neighbors because of her sexual relations with a number of men, the Samaritan woman had good reason to go to the well at a time when she would not meet others. She doubtless went then because of her discomfort with her neighbors’ opinion of her.

The two individuals were worlds apart.  Nicodemus was a respected member of the privileged religious elite in the Judean capital of Jerusalem; the Samaritan woman was a shamed individual from a despised culture in a rustic backwater of the country. Spiritually, Nicodemus may have needed help to see his sin and the Samaritan woman may have needed help to see her worth,  but both individuals shared something in common – they both evidently feared the opinions of others and sought to avoid those who might look down on them.

It is unlikely that John juxtaposed his accounts of these individuals in the way he did without intending his readers to see the connection of fear implied in both stories. Whatever our background, whatever our own perception of our standing before God, we may adjust our behavior in order to cope with our inherent human fear of the opinions of others.  But after meeting with the one they came to see was probably the Messiah, both individuals found the courage to act without shame and without cover.
 
Nicodemus later spoke with courage to remind his colleagues in the Sanhedrin that a person should be heard before being judged (John 7:50–51), and then, after the crucifixion, he helped to prepare the body of the reviled and executed Jesus for burial (John 19:39–42).  In the same way, after meeting Jesus, the Samaritan woman – if she had been avoiding her neighbors – now found the courage to tell them all about the one she had met who was the Christ.

We may not be like Nicodemus or like the Samaritan woman. Perhaps our lives are being lived out somewhere between those of the two individuals, the saint and the serial sinner.  But like them, if we have met with Jesus in our lives, we will be strengthened to live above the opinions of others.

Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe  and went up to him again and again, saying,  “Hail, king of the Jews!” And they slapped him in the face (John 19:1-3).

In these words, John summarizes the beginnings of the crucifixion of Jesus. Matthew, in his Gospel, adds the detail that the Roman soldiers also put a staff in his right hand (Matthew 27:29), which clearly imitated the emperor’s scepter, just as the purple robe and crown of thorns also imitated the emperor’s other attributes.  

The mockery of the soldiers is clear. Charged as “King of the Jews” (Matthew 27:37), and hence as someone attempting to take the place of the emperor, the imperial attributes of robe, scepter and crown were intended as a cruel, insulting joke.  But the mocking soldiers were doubtless unaware of how richly symbolic their parody actually was.   The crown of thorns given to Jesus was  doubtless intended as a parody of the Roman Civic Crown  given to military heroes. Like the crown of thorns, the Roman Civic Crown (Latin: corona civica) was formed of plant material: of leaves of the oak tree woven into a circle.  But the Civic Crown was granted only to  Roman citizens who saved the lives of other citizens.  So high was the honor of this crown that it became part of the  imperial regalia and was worn by all the emperors from the time of Augustus, and the emperors themselves were often hailed as the  “Savior” of the people.

Ironic or not, the richness of the symbolism that God allowed in the crown of thorns also finds much earlier foreshadowing in the Bible itself.  Not only does the biblical story of humanity’s “fall” tell us that as a result of sin the earth would produce “thorns and thistles” (Genesis 3:17-19), but also the crown of thorns is more specifically foreshadowed in the story of Abraham’s sacrifice of his son, Isaac. Genesis 22:13 tells us that the sacrifice of Isaac was transferred to the sacrifice of the male sheep God provided, that was caught by its horns in a “thicket.”  The Hebrew word used for thicket is sebak, derived from a word meaning to entwine in the sense of interwoven branches.  This was perhaps the Palestine Buckthorn (Rhamnus lycioides or Rhamnus palaestinus), a bush or small thorn tree which grows on hillsides in much of Israel.  Its botanical name Rhamnus refers to its intertwined, prickly branches.  The ram “caught by the horns” in such a tree was thus essentially a sacrificial sheep with thorns intertwined around its head, and the ram became a substitutionary sacrifice for Isaac, just as Jesus became a substitutionary sacrifice for everyone. 

So the crown of thorns given to the Messiah and intended as a cruel parody to mock him was, in fact, a fitting symbol for the One who took upon himself the thorny result of our human sin, who willingly acted as a substitutionary sacrifice for all, and whose bravery infinitely eclipsed that of heroes who may have saved others (Romans 5:7). It may have been intended as a parody, but no one else ever qualified to receive such an exalted crown as the one made of thorns worn by Jesus.

The Gospel of John records the healing by Jesus, at the Pool of Bethesda, of a man paralyzed for many years.  The account is a moving one and provides some interesting questions.  There were many sick people at the pool that day – why did Jesus single out this particular individual for the healing? And why did Jesus ask the man a question which we would normally never ask a sick or paralyzed person: "Do you want to be well?"    
   The answers to these questions may throw additional light on the story of the healing - and they are answers that apply to all of us.  See our new article, uploaded today: "Do You Want to Be Well?"  

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters... Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,  I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff,  they comfort me…” (Psalm 23:1-4).


It’s hard for modern Christians not to think of Psalm 23 when the word “shepherd” comes to mind.  But that beautiful psalm reflects only some of the aspects of shepherding. Leading the sheep to pasture – providing for them – and through the valley of darkness – protecting them – are certainly vital aspects of the job, but as a shepherd himself David knew that there was more to the job than just feeding and protecting the sheep.

We find additional insights into the role of the shepherd in another of David’s psalms: “Save your people and bless your inheritance; be their shepherd and carry them forever” (Psalm 28:9). In the first half of this single verse we see the same aspects of protecting the sheep and providing for them, and in the second half David also mentions guiding the sheep (the Hebrew urom is a verb – to shepherd or guide, not to be a shepherd) and carrying them.

In this short but remarkable verse, David captures perhaps all the major aspects of the shepherd’s role in four verbs: To protect the sheep from death, to supply their needs, to guide them and finally to carry them when they are weak or injured and need the shepherd’s strength in addition to their own.   

This picture meshes well with Christ’s role as shepherd, which we see in the prophecy quoted by Matthew: “But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah … out of you will come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel” (Matthew 2:6).  Jesus himself elaborated on the same four aspects of that role mentioned by David in Psalm 28.  As the prophesied shepherd,  Christ did all these things for his people:

Protected them from eternal death: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (John 10:11).

Provided their needs: “I am the gate for the sheep… whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture” (John 10:7-9).

Guided them: “When Jesus … saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things” (Mark 6:34).

Carried them: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he… go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home” (Luke 15:4-6).

The people of ancient Israel in David’s day, and those of Judea in Christ’s day, knew well that these things were all involved in being a shepherd. That’s why Christ used that analogy often, and why his hearers may have understood more fully  than we sometimes do what it means that the Lord is our shepherd. They knew, as we should come to know also, that the flock need never doubt that the Shepherd will always do these things for the sheep. It’s what shepherds do.

*See the article “A Shepherd for a While” on our sister site.

The sixth chapter of John records the miracle of the feeding of the 5000 in which a great crowd that was following Jesus was fed by a mere five loaves and two fishes as a sign:



“Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish.  When they had all had enough to eat, he said to his disciples, “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.” So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten” (John 6:5-13 emphasis added).

In reading the story of this miracle we tend to only notice the fact that after the feeding of the 5,000 the disciples took up far more food than they started with. But notice also that Christ’s instructions to gather up the remaining pieces of bread included the careful instruction “let nothing be wasted” or, as we might say today “don’t lose any!”  Clearly, there was no shortage of food, so the command not to lose any of the crumbs must have had another reason behind it.

The narrative then proceeds with Jesus moving from the area to avoid the crowds and the storm on the Sea of Galilee,  and in reading we tend to not connect the next part of the story. But the narrative is clearly connected. The first thing we see Jesus doing once he arrived at his destination was to begin to teach the people a lesson based on what they had seen.

“Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst... All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out… And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day”  (John 6:35-39 emphasis added).

The disciples had doubtless not forgotten the feeding of the 5,000 – or how much work was involved in picking up twelve baskets of leftover bread pieces and crumbs – so there is no doubt that the connection between the miracle and  the lesson was understood by them even if they did not comprehend its full significance at that time.  But the miracle was not only a sign of Jesus’ messianic identity (6:14), it was also a living lesson in God's intent in working with His human family.  First, Christ stressed that he is the Bread of life and that those in him become, as it were, pieces or crumbs  of that same bread.  But while Jesus could  have just verbally stressed the lesson “… your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish” (Matthew 18:14), the point was apparently important enough that he used the opportunity to drive it home by means of a miracle.

We may know intellectually that our Father is not willing that anyone be lost, but in our times of failure or discouragement we should remember the extent to which Christ made that point for us to clearly see.  We can be sure that if we had picked up twelve bushel baskets of bread crumbs it is a lesson we doubtless would not have forgetten.

“As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!’  ‘Martha, Martha,’ the Lord answered, ‘you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her’ (Luke 10:38-42).

The story shows two sisters with very different personalities.  Martha was clearly the older sister:  she is the one who invited Jesus into their home; she says Mary should be helping her; she seems very much like an older sister – bearing most of the responsibilities and being a more serious person as a result.

Mary gets most of the accolades, doubtless because of Jesus’ words in Luke 10.  The younger sister was clearly totally devoted to Jesus and “hung on his every word” (vs.39).  Jesus said of her that she had “chosen what is better” in that circumstance (vs. 42) and clearly approved her desire to focus on his words even if at the expense of physical preparations which could, perhaps, have waited.  It was apparently Mary, too, [an upcoming blog will show this] who took expensive perfume and anointed Jesus (John 11:2, John 12:1-3).  Clearly, Mary was a woman of faith and deep devotion.

But where does this leave Martha, the serious and perhaps too often busy older sister?  It is easy to dwell on Mary’s devotion and to miss Martha’s own personal faith which is nowhere clearer than in the story of Jesus raising their brother, Lazarus, from the dead.  Notice the story in the Gospel of John, who tells us that Jesus, hearing Lazarus had been buried for four days, proceeded to the home of Martha and Mary:

“When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.  ‘Lord,’ Martha said to Jesus, ‘if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.’  Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’  Martha answered, ‘I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.’  Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?’  ‘Yes, Lord,’ she replied, ‘I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world’” (John 11:20-27).

This is one of the most profound acknowledgements of faith that Jesus encountered in His ministry and shows a side of Martha we should not forget.  Although we may type her as the older sister, busy in her responsibilities, it was Martha who went out to meet Jesus – who sought him out and asked His help at a time when all others – even apparently Mary herself – were consumed in their grief.  Martha does not appear to have been Mary’s subordinate in the faith – both women were dedicated to Jesus, just in different ways; and both were women of exceptional understanding and faith.

Luke 24 tells the story, set shortly after the death of Jesus,  of the two disciples walking on the road to the village of Emmaus several miles from Jerusalem.  As they walked they were joined by a third individual (Luke 24:15-16).  The stranger asked them what they were talking about and they replied:  “About Jesus of Nazareth  …. He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people.  The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him;  but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel...” (Luke 24:19-21).

The stranger joined the conversation and the three individuals talked until they came to Emmaus.  Once there the two disciples urged the stranger to stay the evening with them and join their meal. So, Luke tells us the stranger accepted and:

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them.  Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight” (Luke 24:31-32).

Reading the story from our perspective, with hindsight, we realize immediately that the stranger was, of course, Jesus, but something that we often neglect to think much about in this story is the fact that the two disciples were unaware that the One of whom they spoke was in fact the person with whom they spoke.  The two disciples had actually been talking about the person who was with them.  If that had happened to us, that we discovered someone we talked about had been the person involved – would we have wondered afterwards what we had said, wondered about any negative or critical things that might have been part of our conversation?

If we believe the simple Christian truth that Christ lives His life in each called and committed individual, does the principle not apply that whenever we talk to a fellow believer – or about a fellow believer – we are talking with Christ whether we realize it or not?  It is the principle behind the related situation Jesus described in saying “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them” (Matthew 18:20). It is something to remember.  In that small way, we are all walking the road to Emmaus.

The news is currently full of reports that the small papyrus fragment which is purported to show that Jesus had a wife has now been shown by Carbon 14 dating to be “ancient.”  Does this prove that Jesus had a wife?

Announced at a 2012 conference in Rome by Harvard Divinity School's Karen King, and dubbed the "Gospel of Jesus's Wife," the fragment has now been studied by a number of experts.  The carbon dating conducted at Harvard and MIT on the fragment (3.2 inches wide by 1.6 inches tall - 8 by 4 centimeters) returned dates between AD  659 and 869.  The fragment had earlier been estimated to be “fourth century,” but it is now clear that it is much more recent – probably dating to some 700-800 years after the time of Christ.

By the time this fragment was written, many spurious ideas and speculations had circulated in Christianity; and the “gospel” from which the fragment apparently came may have exhibited many differences from the canonical gospels.  

Not all scholars are convinced that the text is even genuine.  Professor Leo Depuydt of Brown University has stated that he feels the text is full of grammatical errors and other problems that suggest the writing may have been faked on a piece of ancient papyrus.  But even if the writing on the fragment is authentic, its late date means that it really proves nothing regarding the life of the historical Jesus.  

Further,  the words "Jesus said to them, 'My wife . . . she is able to be my disciple . . .'" which are found on the papyrus may have been intended to be understood figuratively rather than literally.  Jesus used similar analogies (John 3:29), and the New Testament  speaks of the church being the “Bride of Christ” on several occasions.  In 2 Corinthians 11:2 the apostle Paul states “… For I have espoused you to one husband, that I may present [you as] a chaste virgin to Christ.” And in the Book of Revelation we find verses such as “I will show you the bride, the Lamb's wife” (Revelation 21:9).

So, despite the sensationalism associated with the recent studies, and the desire of some to see a “Da Vinci Code” type of hidden truth in a single scrap of papyrus, the fragment of text really gives us no evidence to affect our understanding of the gospel accounts of the life of Jesus, and certainly does not prove that Jesus had a wife.

Unlike Jesus’ first miracle when he changed many large jars of water into wine  or the succeeding miracles and signs he performed before His followers, His last miracle may seem small by comparison, yet is just as indicative of His nature as any of the acts of compassion carried out during his ministry.  In some ways, this small miracle may show His nature even more than the others.

All the Gospels describe the arrest of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane before his crucifixion and all of them  describe the fact that in the tense moments of the arrest one of Jesus’ followers drew a sword and struck out, severing the ear of a man named Malchus, a servant of the high priest.  John’s Gospel  reveals that it was the impetuous Peter who did this, and who was stopped by Jesus (John 18:10).  It is unlikely that Peter was aiming at the servant’s ear, and the injury was probably sustained when Peter swung  with the sword at the man’s head and Malchus ducked – narrowly avoiding death, but sustaining the loss or partial loss of his ear.

It would not be surprising if this non-life-threatening injury had been ignored in the turmoil that must have accompanied Jesus’ arrest, but Luke adds a detail in this regard which none of the other gospel writers has.  Luke tells us that Jesus “…touched the man’s ear and healed him” (Luke 22:51).  

We must see this miracle in context. Jesus knew the terrible death that awaited him and had only just finished the agonizing prayer in which his sweat was “like drops of blood” (Luke 22:44).  When the soldiers and officers of the high priest came upon Him in the dark and tumult of the arrest, Jesus’ mind must have been full of what was happening and what was about to happen to him.  Humanly, anyone in this situation would hardly be thinking about one of the arresting group hurt in the tumult. 

Yet the mind of Christ was such that even within that dark and emotionally swirling night, despite the shouting, running and confusion that clearly ensued, Jesus noticed the one who had been injured, focused on that and sought the man out, using His last miracle to help an enemy before he chose to forgo any further use of the divine power at His disposal in order to endure the things He knew He must suffer. 

The many miracles and signs wrought by Jesus during his human ministry showed his compassion and care for others, but these were done in times of relative quiet and security.  In Jesus’ last miracle, even as He was led away to His death, He still showed the love that placed His own needs, His own self, not first, but last.