Benjamin E. Castaneda
Wracked by civil unrest, disease, and foreign threats, the fabric of society seems likely to tear at any moment. Economic instability and political ineptitude threaten the ability of many to provide for themselves and their families while grievous acts of violence and injustice undermine efforts to forge a fragile peace.
This scene may seem familiar, but it describes first-century Roman Palestine equally well.1 In the midst of economic uncertainty and political upheaval, however, Jesus had the audacity to climb a hill in Galilee, gather his disciples around himself, and say to them, “Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Matt 6:25).2
How could Jesus say such things? Given the circumstances, his words not only seem counterintuitive, but insensitive to the legitimate needs of his first hearers: destitute day-laborers, subsistence farmers, women, lepers, and fishermen. Does Jesus want his listeners to run from their responsibilities, bury their heads in the sand, and wait for manna to rain from the skies? This is undoubtedly not the case, but we are right to sense the tension embedded in the narrative. There is a palpable dissonance between Jesus’s teaching and “the reality on the ground.” Jesus intends for us to feel uncomfortable.
Matthew 6:25–34 is a bold statement about what it means to live as a citizen of the kingdom of God amidst the concerns and uncertainties common to the present age. Jesus’s remarks are organized around one word—“be anxious” (μεριμνάω)—which appears six times in these ten verses (Matt 6:25, 27, 28, 31, 34 [2x]). This passage naturally divides into three smaller sections (vv. 25–30; vv. 31–33; v. 34), each of which begins with “therefore” and the command to “not be anxious.” These sections supply the outline for this essay. Though each admonition introduces a distinct set of arguments, the staccato rhythm and repetition underline Jesus’s main point: he wants to transfer our focus from the things that offer earthly security to the eschatological reward awaiting us in the kingdom of God.
Anxiety: Idolatrous and Irrational
Matthew 6:25 opens by commanding citizens of the kingdom not to worry about food, drink, or clothing: “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on.” Jesus is deftly building upon his earlier comments in Matt 6:24: a person can only serve one master—God or mammon.3 Furthermore, as 6:21 indicates, what we serve inevitably becomes apparent through our attitudes and actions (evidenced in the language in 6:19–20 of “laying up treasure” either on earth or in heaven).
Jesus is saying that the presence of anxiety reveals divided loyalties and disordered desires. We worry when we are controlled by something to the point that we fear not having it or losing it. This is precisely the point of Sir 31:1–2a: “Wakefulness over wealth wastes away one’s flesh, and anxiety [μέριμνα] about it drives away sleep. Wakeful anxiety [μέριμνα] prevents slumber” (NRSV). The same notion is found in Eccl 5:12: “Sweet is the sleep of a laborer, whether he eats little or much, but the full stomach of the rich will not let him sleep.” These passages reflect the reality that the rich lose sleep because they are anxious about their wealth. In contrast, David connects sound sleep with trust in the Lord in Ps 3:5–6: “I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the LORD sustained me. I will not be afraid of many thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around.” David could sleep soundly despite the threat to his life posed by the presence of his foes.
Simply put, anxiety is a sign of idolatry. When we give our attention, our love, and ultimately our allegiance to something other than God, anxiety begins to creep in. Being anxious—even about good things such as food and clothing (cf. 1 Tim 6:8)—demonstrates that these things have swelled in our sight so much that we can no longer focus on God and his kingdom.
Jesus reinforces this point by telling two nature parables (6:26, 28–30) connected by a bridge verse (v. 27):
[26] Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
[27] And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?
[28] And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, [29] yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. [30] But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?
The parables and the bridge all conclude with rhetorical questions designed to emphasize the irrationality of worry: 1) “Are you not of more value than [the birds]?” 2) “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” 3) “Will [God] not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” Like repeated strokes from a sledgehammer, Jesus’s relentless interrogation cracks our ostensibly logical defenses, exposing the irrationality of our fears and, even more fundamentally, the feebleness of our faith. The parables and the bridge supply three reasons why anxiety is irrational:
1. God is your Father. By describing God as “your heavenly Father” in 6:26, Jesus foregrounds the intimate relationship citizens of the kingdom have with their King. Throughout the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus repeatedly refers to his disciples using the literary motif of children of the heavenly Father.4 As children of the King, they are heirs of the kingdom (Matt 5:9). This filial care is further highlighted in the Lord’s Prayer, in which Jesus teaches his disciples to ask their heavenly Father for daily provision (Matt 6:11; Luke 11:3). If all these things just mentioned are true—if we are God’s children, if we are heirs of his kingdom, and if he wants us to ask him for our daily bread—then it is irrational to doubt whether God cares for us.
This point is sharpened by the rhetorical question in 6:26. Surprisingly, the question does not even mention food. Given Jesus’s comments earlier in the verse, we would expect him to say, “Will not your Father much more feed you?” (similar to the rhetorical question in 6:30). Instead, Jesus directs our attention to an underlying attitude: “Are you not of more value than [the birds]?” The implication is clear: anxiety does not directly result from our experiencing lack. Rather, anxiety claims a foothold when we doubt God’s disposition toward us, when we wonder in our hearts, “Is God truly for me?” Consequently, Jesus does not explicitly promise physical food—that would merely treat the symptom. Instead, Jesus takes aim at the root of the problem by affirming our value in the sight of the Father.
2. Human beings are limited. The maxim in 6:27 sandwiched between the nature parables is a common-sense observation: we are incapable of lengthening our lives. As the Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote, “No man can have a peaceful life who thinks too much about lengthening it” (Ep. 4.4 [Gummere, LCL]). Regardless of how much we plan for contingencies and insure against disaster, nothing we do can add even an hour to the span of our lives.5 Anxiety is therefore irrational because it is pointless. It accomplishes nothing and benefits no one.
3. God is an extravagant giver. In the final nature parable, Jesus asks his disciples to consider the flowers of the field. Despite their lack of effort, the flowers are robed with such beauty that even Solomon in all his pomp and regal attire cannot compare. However, Jesus also points out that this beauty is transient. If God clothes with spectacular glory something so fleeting and common as grass, will God refuse to clothe citizens of his kingdom?
Although Jesus is obviously making an argument from the lesser to the greater, more important is the fact that Jesus is basing his argument on the character of God. The logic works because God is an extravagant giver who does not despise the small things. Like a master painter, he lavishes intricate beauty on seemingly insignificant details, knowing full well their fragility and impermanence. He delights to imbue the lowliest of his creations with splendor unmatched by the most magnificent handiwork of human beings. Jesus himself remarks just a few verses later, “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matt 7:11). God is good and gives good gifts. For those who are in a relationship with this God, the fear that he will not provide can only be described as irrational.
This irrationality is especially emphasized by Jesus in the addendum to his rhetorical question: “Will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” This term for his disciples (“you of little faith”) should catch us by surprise for two reasons. First, the Greek word for “you of little faith” (ὀλιγόπιστοι) was almost certainly coined by Matthew. It occurs only 5x in the New Testament (Matt 6:30 [par. Luke 12:28]; 8:26; 14:31; 16:8) and does not appear in any preceding Greek literature. The strangeness of the word would perhaps have prompted a moment’s pause for the initial readers.
Second, this term should be surprising because it seems like an unfair depiction. Remember that Jesus is talking to a crowd of people at the margins of society, many of whom engaged in a daily struggle to eke out a meager existence. In such circumstances, how could they be blamed for being anxious? But by describing his disciples as people of little faith, Jesus is both issuing a rebuke and suggesting the antidote for anxiety. The appropriate response to the uncertainties of life is not fear but faith in God the Father. Jesus is challenging his disciples to rest on the character and promises of God. David issues the same challenge in Ps 55:22: “Cast your burden [LXX: μέριμνάν] on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.” By casting our fears and worries upon God, we are freed from the things which enslave us and freed to pursue the kingdom and its righteousness.
Anxiety, Identity, and Eschatology
In Matt 6:31, Jesus reiterates his command not to be anxious and raises the same three concerns from 6:25 (food, drink, and clothing). But then in 6:32 Jesus abruptly brings the gentiles into the discussion: “The gentiles (τὰ ἔθνη) seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.” Jesus’s choice of words is significant. In the Greek translation of the Jewish scriptures, τὰ ἔθνη was often used to designate the non-Jewish nations that surrounded Israel (e.g., Gen 22:18; Exod 33:16; Deut 7:6; Josh 23:7; 1 Sam 8:20), specifying those who are not in a covenant relationship with God.6 In particular, τὰ ἔθνη was often linked with the worship of idols (Ps 115:1–8 [LXX Ps 113:9–16]).
In contrast, Israel’s identity consisted in the fact that they had been chosen by God to be distinct from the nations, both in worship and in behavior. 7 Far from being an act of self-preservation, however, Israel’s distinctness was intended to establish them as a light among the nations. They were meant to display the radiant glory and grace of Israel’s God and thereby call the nations to worship him as well.8
This distinction between Jews and gentiles has already made an intriguing appearance in the Sermon on the Mount. In 5:14 Jesus extends Israel’s identity to his disciples, announcing that they are now “the light of the world.” He then commissions his disciples to practice their good works before others so they might glorify God the Father (5:16). Jesus returns to the Jew/gentile distinction in 6:32 to make an explicit contrast that entails an implicit irony.
First, using verbal parallelism (ἐπιζητέω in 6:32//ζητέω in 6:33), Jesus contrasts the gentiles and his disciples. On the one hand, the anxious pursuit of food, drink, and clothing characterizes those outside the pale of the kingdom—they are the ones who frantically “seek” (ἐπιζητέω) daily necessities (6:32). By contrast, Jesus’s disciples can be identified because they “seek” (ζητέω) first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, knowing that “all these things will be added to you” (6:33). They prioritize faithfulness in their covenant relationship with God and thus can rest assured that their Father will provide what they require.
However, this contrast also contains an implicit irony, one which played out often in the history of Israel. Despite their advantages and experiences of God’s provision, Israel repeatedly wandered from God. Rather than seeking faithfulness to their covenant Lord, they became like τὰ ἔθνη.9 Jesus is warning his disciples of this distressing tendency and bringing it to their attention.
Jesus is insinuating that when we are anxious, we act more like pagan idol-worshipers than chosen heirs of the kingdom. Despising our birthright like Esau, we take the path of instant gratification and choose to devour the pot of stew (Gen 25:29–34). The result is that we miss the blessing of eating at the father’s table (Gen 27:7). Like Israel in the wilderness, we let our lack sow seeds of doubt in our minds, causing us to question God’s ability (and his desire) to care for us (Exod 16:3). And like Adam and Eve, we ignore the plain evidence of God’s tender care for us (the abundance of fruit trees in a lush garden enclosure) and instead focus on the one thing he has denied us for the moment. Consequently, we reach out and take what we think will satisfy our hunger (Gen 3:6).
This is especially tragic because citizens of the kingdom have a heavenly Father who knows what they need (Matt 6:32b). Later in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus asserts that the Father is always willing to give his children what they need (Matt 7:7–11). In the introduction to the Lord’s prayer, Jesus goes even further: our Father knows what we need even before we ask (Matt 6:7). We do not need to be concerned for our welfare because God is, as it were, concerned on our behalf.
Finally, we should note that Jesus transposes his discussion of food, drink, and clothing into an eschatological key. This is especially clear in Matt 6:33: “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Surprisingly, Jesus does not specify the time frame within which “all these things” will provided. This seems like a substantial oversight, especially since many of the initial listeners would have had few resources and little social capital to fall back on. Additionally, what does it mean that “all these things will be added to you?” Is Jesus promising that no child of God will ever go hungry or perish from exposure or lack of food?
A clue was given earlier in the Sermon on the Mount when Jesus pronounced, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied” (Matt 5:6). In both passages, Jesus links righteousness (δικαιοσύνη) with actions related to food and drink. Further, both Matt 5:6 and 6:33 end with a future passive verb (χορτασθήσονται//προστεθήσεται). In Matt 5:6 Jesus commends those who hunger and thirst—not for physical food and drink—but for righteousness, and he promises that they will be filled. As the other future-oriented Beatitudes indicate, this “filling” will take place at the eschaton, on the Last Day (Matt 5:4–9; cp. Luke 6:21, 25).10
Something similar seems to be in view in Matt 6:33. Those who seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness will receive not only these things at the eschaton, but also all the other things they need too (food, drink, and clothing). Jesus has shifted from discussing the food, drink, and clothing of this age to the food and garments of the eschatological wedding feast (Matt 22:1–14). Jesus is not promising (or even implying) that citizens of his kingdom will never go hungry or thirsty or lack sufficient clothing in this life. In fact, Jesus explicitly affirms at least some of his followers will experience lack (Matt 25:31–40). Rather, Jesus is promising that (true) food, drink, and clothing will be supplied on the Last Day. Grant Macaskill makes this same point, which is worth quoting in full:
In its present state, the world is transient and subject to decay; only the Kingdom, and the blessings of that Kingdom, will be eternal. Thus, the believer is comforted by the thought that he or she will one day be clothed in a splendour greater than that of Solomon himself, even though here and now that believer’s experience may be one of nakedness or hunger. Such an understanding of the text, particularly of the elements within it intended to alleviate anxiety, seems to me to be better than the rather trite interpretations often made of this part of Jesus’ teaching in the well-clothed, well-fed West.11
This eschatological interpretation best resolves the tension between Jesus’s words and the lack of daily provision that would sometimes be experienced by a first-century audience in Roman Palestine. Further, it fits into a pattern in which Jesus elevates a discussion about food, drink, or clothing into an eternal register. As Jesus said to the Samaritan woman in John 4:13–14, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”12
Jesus is by no means discounting the suffering of those who undergo deprivation of material resources. After all, he identified himself with the impoverished and marginalized (Matt 8:20; 9:10–13; 10:19; 12:17–21) and likewise underwent deprivation and suffering. However, his point is that these very real needs are not ultimate needs, and unless we are careful, focusing on them can lead us away from the Giver of all good gifts.
Anxiety and Tomorrow
If Matt 6:25–33 is about eschatological realities, the question naturally arises: what about now? What about the time before the consummation? Jesus anticipates and answers this implicit question in the final, short section (Matt 6:34). Despite the brevity of this section, however, it provides all that is necessary to answer the last lingering question of tomorrow.
The question is simple, yet profound: how can a person face tomorrow if the necessities of life are not guaranteed in the present? Jesus responds in a straightforward fashion: “Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious about itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”
As with the other sections, Jesus connects this verse to his previous argumentation by using the word “therefore.” Part of Jesus’s answer to the question of facing tomorrow is to go back to his previous comments. Jesus has already commanded citizens of the kingdom twice in this passage not to be anxious about physical necessities because anxiety is, at its root, idolatrous and irrational. It stems from an improper focus on the things of the world and diverts attention away from seeking the kingdom and its righteousness.
But Jesus has not simply given commands. He has also made statements about the character of God. For our present circumstances, the affirmation of Matt 6:32 is sufficient: we have a heavenly Father who knows our needs. This relationship between the Father and his children is what reassures kingdom citizens that God is intimately concerned with their welfare. Though we may experience lack, we know he still loves us and has not forgotten us, so we wait patiently for him to fulfill his promises (cf. Matt 4:4). If the Last Day comes tomorrow, then we will be given all things. If the Lord tarries, again we have nothing to fear. We have the intimate concern of a Father who cares even about birds and flowers. Tomorrow, until it comes, will care for itself. The only thing left to be concerned about is how we are using each day to seek the kingdom and its righteousness.
Anxiety and the Prince of Peace
As we conclude this essay, it seems appropriate to reflect for a moment on the reaction of the crowds to Jesus’s teaching as noted in Matt 7:28–29: “And when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he was teaching them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes.”
The sharpness of Jesus’s instruction and obvious authority of his words startled his initial hearers. Familiarity, however, often breeds contempt. Unless we try to read the text with fresh eyes, we will miss not only the significance of the teaching but the significance of the teacher. The implicit question on the lips of the crowd should be our question as well: who is Jesus to tell us we should not be anxious anymore? Three portraits of Jesus emerge from Matt 6:25–34 in its broader context:
1. Jesus is a sympathetic sufferer. Jesus speaks about hunger and thirst out of his own experience. Matthew construes his narrative of Jesus’s life such that the Sermon on the Mount follows upon the temptation of Jesus. After recounting that Jesus fasted for forty days in the wilderness (echoing Israel’s own forty-year experience of wilderness wandering), Matt 4:2 simply states, “He was hungry.” Besides being a severe understatement, this text speaks to the true humanity of Jesus. He suffered deprivation in the extreme, feeling the gnawing pangs of hunger and sensing the weakness of his limbs. His body desperately needed nourishment. In this dire state of weakness, the devil challenged him: “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread” (Matt 4:3). Jesus’s response in Matt 4:4 is most illuminating:
But he answered, “It is written,
“‘Man shall not live by bread alone,
but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”
Jesus needed to eat, yet he recognized that food was not his ultimate need. First and foremost, he needed to obey his Father’s will. The true source of his sustenance was God alone. Having just heard the Father’s voice at his baptism, Jesus knew who he was: the precious Son of the Father (cf. Matt 3:17). As a result, he could depend on his Father’s character and patiently wait for his provision.
This is excellent news for anxious people! As the author of Hebrews writes, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb 4:15). Jesus experienced at a personal level the needs and uncertainties which pervade this present age, and yet they did not cause him to cower in fear. As the pioneer of our faith, he obeyed his Father’s will, accomplishing for his people what they could never do for themselves. Consequently, he became the great high priest who assists them in their weakness: “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb 4:16).
2. Jesus is the divine agent of provision. As mentioned earlier, Jesus’s use of “O you of little faith” (ὀλιγόπιστοι) in Matt 6:30 is the first in a series. Interestingly, the other three occurrences of ὀλιγόπιστοι in Matthew (8:26; 14:31; 16:8) all occur in situations where Jesus’s—not the Father’s—ability to provide is questioned or doubted.
For example, in Matt 8:23–27 the disciples fear drowning in a sudden raging storm but are delivered by Jesus’s divine action of calming the storm. This prompts them to respond with shock and astonishment: “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?” (Matt 8:27). Similarly, in Matt 14:22–33 Jesus walks on the Sea of Galilee and identifies himself as “I AM [ἐγώ εἰμι],” alluding to God’s covenantal name in Exod 3:14. He then rescues Peter, who had turned his gaze from Jesus, looked at the storm, and became afraid (perhaps echoing Ps 69:1–2 and Isa 41:13). Finally, in Matt 16:5–12, after the disciples fixate on having forgotten to bring bread for their journey, Jesus rebukes them and reminds them how he miraculously fed thousands. A lack of bread is no problem for him.
This pattern suggests that ὀλιγόπιστοι in Matt 6:30 functions similarly. By calling his disciples “you of little faith” in this context, Jesus is not only challenging his hearers to trust in God’s provision but implicitly calling them to recognize him as the divine agent who accomplishes that provision.
3. Jesus is the Son of David who establishes the kingdom of peace. A final portrait of Jesus emerges from the usage of the Greek verb “be anxious” (μεριμνάω) itself. It occurs only twenty-eight times in the New Testament and the Greek translation of the Jewish scriptures. Six of those occurrences are found here in Matt 6:25–34, with an additional four in the parallel account in Luke. In other words, over a third of the uses of this word in the biblical writings occur here in Jesus’s teaching, juxtaposing the anxious pursuit of food, drink, and clothing and seeking first the kingdom of God.
There are two places in the Greek translation of the Jewish scriptures where μεριμνάω and the kingdom are similarly juxtaposed: 2 Samuel 7 and 1 Chronicles 17. These passages recount the institution of God’s covenant with David. After declaring to David that he has chosen him to be ruler over his people, God promises in 2 Sam 7:10–12:
And I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may dwell in their own place and be disturbed (μεριμνήσει) no more.13 And violent men shall afflict them no more, as formerly, from the time that I appointed judges over my people Israel. And I will give you rest from all your enemies. Moreover, the LORD declares to you that the LORD will make you a house. When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom.
Although Israel had already dwelt in the Promised Land for several centuries by the time King David came to power, most of that time had been spent dealing with incursions by foreign nations during the period of the judges. Merely dwelling in the Promised Land was not enough to provide true and lasting security. The sinfulness of the people mired them in a vicious cycle of oppression followed by divine deliverance (Judg 2:10–23). What Israel really needed was not a local, temporary warlord but a righteous king who would represent the whole people and lead them into permanent, victorious peace (Judg 21:25). In 2 Sam 7:10–12, God finally provides a glimmer of hope. No longer would his people need to be anxious for the safety of their families and fields. No longer would the nation be devastated again and again by foreign powers. At long last, Israel would dwell in peace and prosperity.
But when would this peace occur? As 2 Sam 7:12 indicates, it would not happen during David’s lifetime. Rather, the promise of peace would be fulfilled in the days of David’s “offspring.” When the Jews heard this prophecy, they almost certainly would have thought of David’s son, Solomon, whose name comes from the Hebrew word for peace—shalom (שָׁלוֹם). However, as Israel’s history demonstrates, even Solomon’s fantastic wisdom, wealth, and power did not inaugurate ultimate rest for the people of God. Solomon’s limitations are voiced by Jesus himself in Matt 6:29: even Solomon arrayed in his royal splendor could not compare to the simple beauty of blossoms. The very treasures Solomon accumulated were subject to the adverse effects of moth, rust, and thieves (cf. Matt 6:19–21). Solomon himself sowed the seeds for the breakup of the kingdom and their eventual exile.
The promised era of peace and prosperity would have to wait until, as Jesus says in Matt 12:42, “Behold, something greater than Solomon is here.” Matthew 6:25–34 thus portrays Jesus in line with a theme that runs throughout this Gospel: Jesus is the promised Son of David who would usher in true peace for citizens of the kingdom.14
Benjamin E. Castaneda is a PhD candidate in New Testament and Early Christianity at the University of St Andrews, where he is writing his dissertation on the function of Jesus traditions in the Catholic Epistles. He is an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church in America.
Image: Giovanni da Udine, Study of a Flying Sparrow
- For a vivid sketch of the powder-keg atmosphere of first-century Palestine, see Josephus, Jewish Wars 2.13.2–2.14.2.[↩]
- Scripture quotations are from the ESV unless otherwise indicated.[↩]
- The ESV and NIV translate mammon as “money” but the term refers to any form of wealth, possessions, or property. See C. Brown, “μαμωνᾶς,” NIDNTT 2:836–8.[↩]
- 5:16, 45, 48; 6:1, 4, 6, 8, 9, 14, 15, 18, 26, 32; 7:11[↩]
- It should be noted that Jesus is not saying, “Do not prepare for the future” (cf. Jas 4:13–16). It is right to provide for the well-being of oneself and those within one’s circle of care.[↩]
- H. Bietenhard, “ἔθνος,” NIDNTT 2:791.[↩]
- See Exod 33:16; Lev 18:24–25; Deut 7:7; 9:4–5; 10:15–16; 28:9–10; Isa 44:1–20[↩]
- See Gen 18:18; Deut 28:10; Josh 2:9–11; Isa 11:10; 42:6–7; 49:3, 6; 60:1–3; Ezek 37:28; Sir 36:1–5[↩]
- See Deut 12:29–30; 1 Sam 8:20; 2 Kgs 17:11–12; Ps 106:34–41 [LXX Ps 105:34–41][↩]
- Luke 6:21, in distinction from Matt 5:6, places a focus upon physical hunger. However, the context clearly indicates that the satisfaction of this hunger will likewise take place on the Last Day.[↩]
- Grant Macaskill, “Matthew 6:19-34: The Kingdom, the World and the Ethics of Anxiety,” SBET 23 (2005): 28–29.[↩]
- Other instances include Matt 26:26–29 and John 6:32–36.[↩]
- Many English translations (e.g., ESV, NIV, NLT, NASB) use the gloss “be disturbed.” This is probably due to the influence of the KJV, which translated this word as “move.” “Disturb” in English can convey both movement and inner agitation. However, the KJV probably overtranslated the Hebrew רגז, which denotes literal and/or metaphorical trembling, often coupled with a sense of anxious expectancy (e.g., Exod 15:14; Deut 2:25; 28:65; 1 Sam 14:15; Job 3:26; Ps 77:16; 99:1; Isa 13:13).[↩]
- For more on this theme in the Gospel of Matthew, see Patrick Schreiner, Matthew, Disciple and Scribe: The First Gospel and Its Portrait of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2019), 65–130.[↩]