The Narrative of Matthew and Forgiveness (Part 2)

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

The second narrative insight into Matthew’s theology of forgiveness centers around the interactions between Pilate, Jesus, Barabbas, and the crowd in Matthew 27:15-26. Although the events surrounding Jesus’ death took place around Passover, the scene before Pilate would have reminded Matthew’s Jewish readers of a different Jewish feast: Yom Kippur, the Festival of Atonement. During this festival, two goats would be brought before the assembly, one of which was released and the other which was killed for the sins of the people.[1]

When the crowd chooses to release Jesus Barabbas and crucify Jesus Son of the Father, they unwittingly elect to sacrifice the one whose blood would actually supplant the blood of sheep and cattle. 27:24-25 are verses long abused by Christians with anti-Semitic tendencies who desire to punish the Jewish people for their role in crucifying Jesus.[2] And, on a face-value reading of the passage, these verses do seem to absolve Rome of any guilt for Jesus’ death while laying blame solely at the feet of the Jews.

Yet in light of Matthew’s theology of forgiveness—especially the fact that Jesus’ blood grants forgiveness of sins (26:28)—there is more to this passage than first meets the eye. For when Pilate washes his hands of Jesus’ blood (another event recorded only in Matthew), he actually washes off that which forgives sin. And when the people—presumably in bloodlust—cry out for Jesus’ death, they actually ask to receive that which grants forgiveness and salvation. Through a theological reading of this passage, therefore, Matthew simultaneously subverts Roman power—now sanitized from the saving blood—and offers redemption to the Jews—who are covered in Jesus’ forgiving blood. Matthew, who wrestled with how to forgive his Jewish neighbors for their willingness to crucify Jesus, urges his community do recognize that the Jews are already forgiven in Jesus. Lest they too become unforgiving servants, followers of Jesus are therefore urged to extend forgiveness to the Jews.


[1] David P. Wright, “Day of Atonement,” 72-76 in The Anchor Bible Dictionary: Volume 2 (D-G) (New York/London: Doubleday: 1992), 3. Lev. 16.20-22.

[2] Harrington, 20-21. Hagner, lxxii.

The Narrative of Matthew and Forgiveness (Part 1)

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

It has often been suggested that the canonical gospels are passion stories with long introductions,[1] that the narrative of the crucifixion, death, and resurrections form the crux of the gospel message and is supplemented by what comes earlier in the gospels. Insofar as this is true of Matthew’s Gospel as a whole, this principle also applies to Matthew’s theology of forgiveness, for it is during the passion narrative that Matthew’s dual theological emphases on forgiveness come to a head. The first stream involves Matthew’s perspective on the limitlessness of forgiveness applied to the actions of Peter and Judas; the second involves the climax of the gospel message—that forgiveness of sins comes through the blood of Jesus.

In chapters 26 and 27 Matthew casts Peter and Judas in the paradigm of the Parable of the Two Sons, two workers who say one thing and do another and are both in need of forgiveness. In 26:14-16, 47-50, Judas takes the place of the first son, the one who claims that he will follow Jesus but instead betrays him. In 26:31-35, Peter follows the example of the second son, saying that he will never betray Jesus. But then in 26:69-75 he fails to follow through and denies Jesus three times. Matthew portrays Peter as clearly contrite for his actions (26:75), but it does not take away from the fact that he has sinned by changing his mind.

What then of Judas? Again using material that no other evangelist provides, in 27:3-10 Matthew recounts Judas’s post-betrayal actions. 27:3 records that when Judas saw that Jesus was condemned, he “repented” (μεταμεληθεὶς), the same term used for the second son who “changed his mind” (μεταμεληθείς ) and did his father’s will in the Parable of the Two Sons (21:29). He then confessed his sin to the priests—at least part of the required atonement for sin (Lev. 4:27-35)—and paid thirty pieces of silver—the price of a slave’s life (Exodus 21:32). Since one can sin against the Son of Man and still receive forgiveness (12:32), until this point Judas stands as one capable of being forgiven by God, of being the son who did the will of his father.

Unfortunately, the priests then fail him by failing to forgive him and he goes off and hangs himself.[2] Although Peter’s post-denial repentance and Judas’s post-betrayal forgiveness add a twist, Matthew’s account of these two workers’ actions employs the Parable of the Two Sons paradigm. The message to his community is, quite shockingly, to be more like Judas than Peter, for it is better to ask for forgiveness for betraying Jesus than to say you will not deny him and disown him three times. In Matthew’s Gospel, even a sin as heinous as denying Jesus is a forgivable offense, provided you properly request forgiveness and extend forgiveness to others.


[1] Martin Kähler, The So-Called Historical Jesus and the Historic Biblical Christ (trans. Carl E. Braaten, Philadelphia: Fortress, 1964), 80n2.

[2] The failure of the priests could very well be interpreted as an anti-priesthood sentiment, perhaps influenced by the Sitz im Leben of Matthew’s community. Alternatively, it could simply be another indication of the consistent rejection of proper righteousness by this priests in particular. We leave aside questions of forgiveness for suicide, as this is beyond the scope of this paper.

The Parables of Matthew and Forgiveness

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

These general literary-theological insights concerning Matthew’s theology of forgiveness find additional explication in two additional parables of Jesus: the Parable of the Lost Sheep (18:10-14) and Parable of the Two Sons (21:28-32).

In the Parable of the Lost Sheep—which occurs only a few verses before the Parable of Unmerciful Servant and in the context of discussions about the nature of the community—a distinction is drawn between those who have gone astray (τὸ πλανώμενον) and those who are not lost. Verse 14 serves as the connection of this parable to its context, namely, that the Father desires that not one of His sheep, those who belong to him (τῶν μικρῶν τούτων), be lost.[1] In the context of the Jesus-community, this suggests that God desires none of His people ever be lost, and that if they do wander away for a time, He wants them back. This is the type of inclusion and forgiveness that the People of God are taught to show one another.

Like the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant, the Parable of the Two Sons occurs only in Matthew’s Gospel. Placed within the context of Holy Week, the vineyard (ἀμπελών) of this parable and the immediately following Parable of the Wicked Tenants (21:33-44) should be understood as references to the same thing: the land, specifically the places where father of vv. 28-31 and landowner of vv. 33-40 operates.[2] The basic message of this parable is that those who do the will of the Father—even after initially rejecting his commands—are closer to the way of righteousness than those who disobey after saying they will obey. Action trumps speech and constitutes true obedience. For Matthew’s theology of forgiveness, these parables reveal that God wishes none from the community be lost and that obedient action rather than lip service constitutes true righteousness. These parables and their teachings prove paradigmatic for properly understanding Matthew’s narrative of the events leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus.


[1] On the motif of the People of God represented as sheep (πρόβατα), see Ez. 34.1-31, Ps. 23, and 1 Enoch 85-90.

[2] Harrington, 299.

Answering God with the Psalms

I recently finished reading Eugene Peterson’s Answering God: The Psalms as a Tool for Prayer. Peterson is best known for The Message Bible translation and well known among pastors (at least the circles I run in) for his calls to obedience to Christ and the interior life. I’ve been on a protracted Peterson kick for the past four years, taking my time to read through as much of his work as I can (and recently finishing Winn Collier’s excellent biography on Peterson, A Burning in My Bones).

Peterson is like a breath of fresh air for my cloudy and polluted mind. He seamlessly weaves together biblical wisdom with striking prose, and it’s illuminating. I leave the story of his life challenged and I leave his own writing inspired and encouraged, challenged and convicted. It’s a delightful experience every time I pick up one of his books.

The major premise of Answering God is that the Psalms are our answers to God: our prayers in response to who God is and what He has done. For Peterson, the Psalms should form and forge our life of prayer, as everything from the words and scope to their order and system bear meaning for our walk with the Almighty. (There are lots of other things worthy reflecting on too, but this is the main message.)

This struck a chord with me as there have been several times in my life when the Psalms have formed the core part of my prayer life with God. When I left home for the first time to attend my gap year at Summit Semester, I read and prayed the Psalms each morning. While I was studying overseas at Oxford, following the death of my grandfather, and during a rough season in grad school, the Psalms were my lifeline of prayer and faith. Not that I haven’t read the Psalms at other times—only that these turbulent times stand out in my mind as seasons when the Psalms were particularly helpful for putting into words what I was feeling and struggling with.

The other season when I’ve relied heavily on the Psalms is, of course, right now. As I’ve struggled mightily since January with my physical and mental health, the Psalms have formed the core of my prayer life. When I don’t know what to say (or even what to focus on), the Psalms have been there to provide my words to God. Relatedly, I’ve taken up praying the Daily Office, which is filled with (among other Scriptures) the Psalms.

And so as I make my way through this persistent season of exhaustion, pain, and anxiety, I’ll continue to turn to the Psalms—to run to them, to pray them, to cling to them, to learn from them, and to answer God with them. For what else can I do?

I lift up my eyes to you,
    to you who sit enthroned in heaven.
As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master,
    as the eyes of a female slave look to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God,
    till he shows us his mercy.

Have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy on us,
    for we have endured no end of contempt.
We have endured no end
    of ridicule from the arrogant,
    of contempt from the proud.

~Psalm 123

Matthew’s General Theology of Forgiveness

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

While increased attention has been paid to Matthew’s overarching theology of forgiveness in recent years, no study has comprehensively treated this theme.[1] Here, we begin the process of tracing Matthew’s theology of forgiveness, considering literary-theological passages, parables, and narrative insights into the importance of forgiveness for the Christian community.

Matthew’s theology of forgiveness begins at the beginning of his gospel, when at the annunciation Joseph is told that Jesus will “save his people from their sins.”[2] Thus from the start readers of the First Gospel are alerted to the fact that Jesus’ salvific import coordinates with the removal of sins—an act of merciful forgiveness. In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus petitions that God forgive us as we forgive others (6:12), continuing after the prayer with the explanation that, “if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (6:14-15). This postscript is found neither in Luke 11:1-4 nor in Mark 11:25.[3] The theme of “forgive in order that you may be forgiven” that occurs in the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant stands in coordination with this petition from the Lord’s Prayer.[4] Even more important for Matthew’s theology of forgiveness, however, is his affirmation of the Jewish conviction that Yahweh is the one who effects the forgiveness sin.[5]

Matthew continues the development of this theme in 9:1-8, where Jesus confirms his power to forgive sins—just like Yahweh—in the healing of the paralyzed man. The next encounter with forgiveness occurs in Jesus’ discussion of spiritual powers in Matthew 12:31-32, where he speaks of the unforgiveable sin of speaking against the Spirit (εἴπῃ κατὰ τοῦ πνεύματος, 12:32), where to “speak against” conveys not only actual speech, but also general transgression of the will of the Spirit.[6] Less frequently noted is this passage’s differentiation between the Son and the Spirit. Whereas sins against the Spirit are unforgiveable, general sins and even speaking against the Son of Man will be forgiven (ἀφεθήσεται). Scholars have spilled no little ink over attempting to determine what this unforgiveable sin might be.[7] In light of Matthew 18:21-35 and Matthew’s other insights into instances of unforgiveness, it seems plausible that not living out the Spirit’s forgiveness could in fact constitute “speaking against” the Spirit. That is, for Matthew, the unforgiveable sin for Christians is not extending the forgiveness of God to others, thereby transgressing the Spirit of God.

The final literary-theological insight on forgiveness involves the institution of the Lord’s Supper in Matthew 26:26-30, where Jesus announces that it his blood which, when poured out, provides for the forgiveness of sins (εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν). While Mark 11:22-25, Luke 22:15-20, and Paul (1 Corinthians 11:23-25) all record this all-important scene—including the institution of the supper and the inauguration of the new covenant—no other account of the Lord’s Supper indicates that Jesus’ blood is for the forgiveness of sins. Unique to Matthew’s Gospel, therefore, is the continuation of the Jewish belief that without the blood there is no forgiveness of sins[8] and that is it Jesus’ blood in particular which forgives human sinfulness. These literary-theological insights reveal that, for Matthew, Jesus came into the world in order to save people from their sins, that God (alone) possesses the power to forgive, that Jesus too has been given the power to grant forgiveness, that sins against the Spirit are unforgiveable, that sins against the Son are forgivable, and that Jesus’ blood brings forgiveness of sins.


[1] Bronn, 208-209, notes connections between 5.21–24, 6.15, and 18.15-35, but no other passages. Even Mbabazi’s careful consideration of Matthew’ concept of forgiveness overlooks many of the contributions to Matthew’s overarching theology. See Isaac Kahwa Mbabazi, The Significance of Interpersonal Forgiveness in Matthew’s Gospel (PhD Diss., Manchester: University of Manchester, 2011), esp. 57-67.

[2] Novum Testamentum Graece, Nestle-Aland 27 (ed. Kurt Aland, Westphalia: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2011), 2. αὐτὸς γὰρ σώσει τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τῶν ἁμαρτιῶν αὐτῶν.

[3] In the petition, Jesus uses the imperative (ἄφες)—conveying request—and in the explanation he employs the subjunctive (ἀφῆτε)—indicating the conditional nature of the forgiveness.

[4] Bronn, 208-209. Bronn concludes that, “Not only is it clear that Matthew has a special interest in forgiveness but, looking back, we see that he speaks of forgiveness almost exclusively in terms of brotherhood.”

[5] John S. Kselman, “Forgiveness: Old Testament,” 831-833 in The Anchor Bible Dictionary: Volume 2 (D-G) (New York/London: Doubleday, 1992), 831. Cx. Ex. 34.6-7, Num. 14.8, 30.6-13. Daniel Johansson, “’Who can forgive sins but God alone?’: Human and Angelic Agents, and Divine Forgiveness in Early Judaism,” JSNT 33.4 (2011): 351-374.

[6] The phrase “εἴπῃ κατὰ” is not extant in any literature prior to Matthew’s Gospel. On use of term, see Galen, In Hippocratis 17b.96.7 and Hermogenes, Rhetoric 1.50.

[7] See Luz, 206-210 on the history of interpretations of this passage, ranging from Origen to modern scholars.

[8] Ex. 30.10, Lev. 2.9. 3.5, Ez. 45.18-20. See also Heb. 9.22. Anna Suk Yee Lee, “Forgiveness and Reconciliation in Old Testament Sacrifice,” McMaster Journal Of Theology & Ministry 13 (2011): 24-44, esp. 25.

The Meaning of Matthew 18:35 and the Message of the Parable

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

The closing remark[1] offers an allegorical reading of the parable and presents its meaning not only to Peter, but to the whole community of disciples.[2] Susan Hylen notes the difficulty of translating this passage into English due to the combination of singular and plural nouns. She argues that each person in the Matthean community is implicated by the command to forgive, but that the “presence of both singular and plural forms rules out a strictly individualistic interpretation of ν. 35.”[3] 

Perhaps most clearly, this application verse conveys the parable’s message of the necessity of forgiveness. The king of the parable stands for God and the δοῦλοι represent disciples, who are to forgive the (comparatively) petty sins of one another because of the enormity of God’s forgiveness which has been extended to them.[4] “Forgiveness from the heart” must be lived out in the practice of the disciples, for the parable reveals that “Christian life is not a matter of mere aspiration or good intentions; faith must be translated into just and compassionate acts.”[5] Further, the future indicative tense of ποιήσει alerts hearers of this parable to the fact that this parable carries eschatological connotations as well as ethical ones.[6] Not only should the community forgive because they have been forgiven; they also must be aware of the eschatological consequences—already foreshadowed in the parable’s enacting on the unforgiving servant—which will result from non-forgiveness.

While the theological implications of Matthew’s theology of forgiveness will be explored in more depth later in this series, we note here the general teaching of this parable, namely, that “A true disciple must never refuse to forgive his brother, no matter how often he has sinned against him.”[7] This parable illuminates the mercy of God and the condition that all who have received His mercy ought to extend that mercy toward others. The Christian community, therefore, should be one animated by a spirit of mercy and forgiveness.[8] This passage summons disciples to give themselves wholly to the king, not merely through acts of obedience and service, but by letting the king’s mercy pervade their minds and hearts and to become truly forgiving.[9] Ethically, if God is willing to show mercy to His disciples, they must be willing to show mercy to others, for “Interpersonal forgiveness is nothing else than a consequence of the forgiveness that one has received oneself.”[10] Eschatologically, those who have received this mercy and fail to reciprocate forgiveness will receive strict justice in the end.[11] Christologically, of course, readers of Matthew’s Gospel would have recognized that it was “in Jesus that mercy has taken a concrete, personified human form.”[12] The exegesis of Matthew 18:21-25 and general theological conceptions in hand, we now turn to consideration of Matthew’s wider theology of forgiveness.


[1] Depending on the scholar, offered either by Jesus or added by Matthew.

[2] Lambrecht, 57. de Boer, 219-223. de Boer suggests that v.26’s use of προσκυνει informs an allegorical reading, since worship would have been understood as due only to God.

[3] Susan E. Hylen, “Forgiveness and Life in Community,” Interpretation: A Journal of Bible and Theology 54.2 (2000): 153.

[4] Hagner, 540.

[5] Senior, 407. Davies and Allison, 803.

[6] Thompson, 222. Lambrecht, 67. Luz, 474-475.

[7] Thompson, 225. This conclusion stands in contrast to certain economically-oriented interpretations of this parable. On an economic interpretation, see Derrett, 35-40. Contra this position, consider Scott, 432-433. Nelson, 47. M.J. Nel, “Interpersoonlike vergifnis in Matteus 18:15-35,” Die Skriflig 49.2 (2015): 1f.

[8] Davies and Allison, 804. Hagner, 537, 540-541. Thomas Deidun, “Parable of the Unmerciful Servant (Mt 18:23-25),” BTB 6.2-3 (1976): 214.

[9] Doriani, 31. Nelson, 48.

[10] Konradt, 136.

[11] Meier, 633. Harrington, Matthew, 271. Mbabazi, “Jewish Background,” 29.

[12] Lambrecht, 64.

The Meaning of Matthew 18:32-34

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

This final section of the parable describes the king’s reaction to the wickedness of his δοῦλος. Indeed, the lord calls the δοῦλος to accounts without even hearing an explanation. Luz indicates that ancient hearers and readers would not have been bothered by the king’s recension of his previous mercy or having his δοῦλος tortured; rather, they would have expected and encouraged his punishment of his δοῦλος’s injustice against the second δοῦλος.[1] Behind the king’s statement stands the idea that the δοῦλος should have imitated his king in granting mercy.[2] This begins to point hearers and readers to the final message of the parable, that “God’s forgiveness of a person must be reflected in that person’s forgiveness of others…. As the disciple judges others, so will God judge the disciple; and by the same measure in which the disciple gives to others, by the same measure will God give to the disciple.”[3]

Verse 34 brings the parable proper to a close, including the sentence of the unforgiving δοῦλος. Given the enormity of 10,000 talents and the fact that his imprisonment will last until full repayment was made, the punishment of the δοῦλος would have been understood as perpetual.[4] The very nature of unending punishment would have raised the eschatological awareness of Jesus’ and Matthew’s audiences, giving this parable undertones warning of final judgment.[5] The final message of the parable thus calls hearers to recognize the nature of ethics, that human actions have lasting implications, perhaps even into the ages.


[1] Luz, 474. Mbabazi notes connections between the Sermon on the Mount (specifically 5.7, 6.12-14) and vv. 32b-33. See Mbabazi, “Jewish Background,” 18-19.

[2] Davies and Allison, 802. “Theologically the imitatio Dei stands in the background here.” (Luz, 474.)

[3] Hagner, 540. Cx. Matt. 6.12, 14-15, 7.2.

[4] Thompson, 221. Davies and Allison, 803. Hagner, 540. Interestingly, no mention is made of the servant’s wife, family, and possessions, leaving open the question of whether or not his family was punished in like manner.

[5] Davies and Allison, 803.

The Meaning of Matthew 18:28-31

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

These verses mirror verses 24-27, except for the fact that the unforgiving δοῦλος does not respond to his fellow δοῦλος with mercy. There are two immediately obvious dissimilarities which would have captured the attention of this parable’s audiences. First, there is the discrepancy between the amounts that each δοῦλος owed. One hundred δηνάρια—a Roman silver coin that was the standard day’s wage for a laborer—represent a small, repayable amount, especially in contrast to the sizeable debt that was just forgiven by the king.[1] In v. 29 when  the second δοῦλος asks for time to repay his debt, his request is quite reasonable, unlike the earlier request of the one now making the demand of repayment. This contrast would have been especially evident to hearers of this parable given how the plea of the second δοῦλος is deliberately patterned after the request of the first δοῦλος.[2]

The second obvious dissimilarity involves the striking contrast between the merciful lord and his unmerciful subject. The normal brutality of a creditor exacting payment from his debtor becomes even more scandalous in light of the story’s context: the appeal for patience is ignored and the second δοῦλος is cast into prison.[3] While the δοῦλος’s actions in v. 30 are not unlawful, they reek of hypocrisy. In contrast to the “Golden Rule” (Matt. 7:12) the “wicked servant asked for and benefited from mercy yet refuses to bestow it.”[4] The vivid contrast between the king and his unforgiving δοῦλος is confirmed by the reaction of the members of the household (the σύνδουλοι) in v. 31, who are disturbed and grief stricken by the first δοῦλος’s actions.[5] As Lambrecht notes, “Whoever listens attentively to the parable is, like the fellow servants, very upset and greatly distressed by the inexplicable conduct of the favored first servant toward his fellow servant.”[6] This is the second key movement of the parable, drawing a contrast between the forgiveness of the king and the (hypocritical) non-forgiveness of his δοῦλος.


[1] Davies and Allison, 800. Harrington, Matthew, 270. Cx. Matt. 20.2, 9, 10, 13, 22.19.

[2] Hagner, 539. Davies and Allison, 801.

[3] Luz, 473. Davies and Allison, 800-801.

[4] Davies and Allison, 801. Thompson, 218.

[5] Senior, 405.

[6] Lambrecht, 63.

The Meaning of Matthew 18:23-27

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

The opening Διὰ τοῦτο of v.23 indicates the connection of this story to that which immediately precedes.[1] This is a kingdom of the heavens parable (βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν) which is set in the typical Semitic form of a king and his servants, the stock images of God and His people.[2] Much has been made of the fact that the βασιλεύς (here in the dative) throughout the rest of the parable is referred to as the κύριος. While some have taken this to indicate Matthew’s interpretation (of the master as God) or redaction, it seems perfectly natural to substitute comparative terminology for king and master, both of which could easily be understood as a) the same figure and b) representative of God.[3]

The precise meaning of δοῦλος throughout this passage is somewhat more troublesome. Although typically indicating “born bondman or slave,” the term may also refer to “subjects” more generally or even ancillary characters.[4] Indeed, δοῦλος is often translated as “minister” or “official” in 1 Samuel 29:3 (LXX), 2 Kings 5:6 (LXX), and Josephus’s Antiquities 2.70. Given the flexibility of this term (and the owed sum, v. 24), several scholars have argued that this parable involves not a servant or slave but a lesser official (perhaps a tax-collector) being held accountable by his king.[5]

In this view, when the δοῦλος is called to accounts in v. 24, the 10,000 talents owed seems somewhat more reasonable. While Josephus records that that the total tax revenue from Judea, Idumea, and Samaria in 4 BCE was only 600 talents, other tax revenue figures make such a total not entirely impossible to accumulate.[6] However, even if 10,000 talents would have been a possible amount of tax revenue, for Jesus’ hearers and Matthew’s readers 10,000 talents would have represented an extravagant and entirely unpayable sum of money.[7] Thus, regardless of the precise character of the δοῦλος, it seems best to understand him as someone who remains entirely incapable of satisfactorily paying off his debt to the king. The “limitlessness” of this debt will prove important for theological interpretations of this parable.

An immediately striking action in this parable—especially for readers viewing the king as God—is the command in v. 25 to sell the δοῦλος and his family for the repayment of the debt. Various contextual clues may inform our understanding of this passage. Several Old Testament passages suggest that children could be sold for the repayment of debt[8] and debt-slavery was not uncommon in parts of the Greco-Roman world.[9] Yet there is no reason to suspect that Second Temple Jews would condone such actions.[10] Furthermore, even if the δοῦλος and his family were sold into slavery, the amount earned from their sales would by no means cover the 10,000 talent debt.[11] Therefore, we would be wise to not over read the specifics of this account. The point here seems to be the just judgment of the king would involve the dissolution of all that the δοῦλος finds most dear—his life, the life of his wife and children, and all of their possessions—are to be exacted, not for actual reparation of the debt but for the sake of punishment.

In response to this terrible (though seemingly just) judgment, the servant falls in worship (προσεκύνει) before the king and unrealistically promises to repay the debt.[12] Then, remarkably and unexpectedly, the king not only grants the request of his δοῦλος, but moved by σπλαγχνισθεὶς (deep emotion, literally a “stirring of the innards”)[13] he extends unimaginable grace by dismissing the debt in its entirety.[14] John Chrysostom summarizes this pivotal moment by remarking, “Do you see again how generous [the master] was? The servant asked only for an extension of time, but he gave him more than he asked for, remission and forgiveness of the entire debt.”[15] This remarkable mercy brings the first act of the parable to a close, whereby hearers and readers of the parable would have been expected to understand that the incredible forgiveness of debt by the king corresponds to the incredible forgiveness of human sin by God.[16]


[1] Hagner, 537. Thompson, 208.

[2] Hagner, 538. Davies and Allison, 796. Donald Senior, “Matthew 18:21-25,” Interpretation: A Journal of Bible and Theology 41.4 (1987): 404. Luz, 471.

[3] Hagner, 538. Davies and Allison, 796-7. Luz, 471. Thompson, 209.

[4] George Liddell, Robert Scott, and H.S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon (9th Ed.) (Oxford: Clarendon, 1996), 447.

[5] de Boer, 217-218. Doriani, 29.

[6] Josephus, Ant. 17.11.4. Compare Plutarch, Antony, 56, and Jerome, Daniel 11.5. Luz, 471. Davies and Allison, 798.

[7] Lambrecht, 57. Harrington, Matthew, 270. Hagner, 528. Hagner suggests that μύριοι indicates deliberate hyperbole, a number beyond number pointing to incalculable debt.

[8] 1 Sam. 22.2, 2 Kgs. 4.1, Neh. 5.5, Isa. 50.1, and Amos 2.6.

[9] Harrington, Matthew, 270. Davies and Allison, 799. Adolf Deissmann, Light from the Ancient East: The New Testament Illustrated by Recently Discovered Texts of the Graeco-Roman World (New York: George H. Doran Co., 1927), 270.

[10] Luz, 472.

[11] Thompson, 214. “Even if the master were able to sell the servant and his household at the best possible price (say, 10,000 denarii), the money realized from the sale would obviously represent a miniscule amount relative to the total debt.” (de Boer, 215.)

[12] Hagner, 538. Thompson, 215.

[13] Senior, 405. The same term is used to describe Jesus’ own compassion toward helpless crowds in Matt. 9.36, 14.14, and 15.34 as well as for the two blind men in 20.34.

[14] Hagner, 539. There is some discussion of the whether δάνειον should be translated as “loan” or “debt.” This issue is compounded by the Syriac version of this parable—which some have taken as indicative of the Aramaic original—that uses ܚܘܒܐ  (debt, liability, wrong). On this, see de Boer, 215.

[15] John Chrysostom, The Gospel of Matthew Homily 61.3. Simonetti, 85.

[16] On the equation of sin to debt in Second Temple Judaism, see Davies and Allison 798.

The Meaning of Matthew 18:21-22

This post is part of an ongoing series on Forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthew.

Peter’s question (a pattern in Matthew) and the parable which follows serve as a gemara, a safeguard against possible absolutist interpretations of the teaching on excommunication (vv.15-20) which precedes it.[1] This brief dialogue introduces the topic of forgiveness, with the future verb ἀφήσω here connoting an imperative sense–how many times “must I forgive”?[2] In contrast to Rabbinic limitations of forgiveness to four times,[3] Peter recognizes Jesus’ greater righteousness and asks Jesus the equivalent of “Is perfect forgiveness expected of [4]me?”

Jesus could have provided a simple “yes” to Peter’s question about the fullness of forgiveness, but he goes even further with the demands of forgiveness. Whether ἑβδομηκοντάκις ἑπτά means 490 or 77, “the point is that there can be no limits to the willingness to forgive.”[5] Jesus’ unexpected answer provides a proverbial tone, leading quite naturally into the parable itself, which speaks of the extravagance of forgiveness in its first part.[6]


[1] Davies and Allison, 791. Thompson 204-5.

[2] Luz, 465. Lambrecht, 54-56.

[3] Senior, 404. Cx. Amos 2.4, 6; Job 33.29.

[4] Luz, 465.

[5] Harrington, 269. See also Luz, 465, who writes that, “The most perfect, boundlessly infinite, countlessly repeated forgiveness is demanded of Peter.” Interestingly, Augustine recounts the 77 generations in Luke’s genealogy as the numerical indicator of why Christians are told to forgive 77 times. See Augustine, Sermon 83.5. Manlio Simonetti (ed.), Matthew 14-28: Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2002), 83.

[6] Hagner, 537. Thompson, 207.