MATTHEW 8:1-17
MY WIFE HAS THE GIFT of finding bargains. Just the other day she put this gift to use for my benefit. At a neighbor’s garage sale Emily found four antique picture frames for the bare wall in my home office. My guess, if the frames are as old as the prints inside them, is that these perfectly scuffed, slightly ornate frames are over a hundred years old. We bought the four frames for fifteen dollars.
What I did first with these finds was pry open the backs of them (they had a thin layer of wood nailed to the back). Then I pulled out the glass and the old prints, took a knife, and carefully cut through the glue that held the prints to the matting. The prints are black-and-white pencil sketches of famous scientists and writers of the nineteenth century. I put on top of the faces of these four important men (I hope they do forgive me for this) pictures I cut out from a book on architecture. These are all prints from early Christian art found on the walls of catacombs and churches—portraits of Jesus as king, warrior, teacher, and shepherd.
In 8:1-17 we also see portraits of Jesus. The Gospel writer gives us three portraits of Jesus’ divine power as healer. Beneath each portrait are parts of an older portrait drawn long ago by the prophet Isaiah—that of the Suffering Servant. What lies beneath, if you will bear with the analogy, Jesus’ power to heal any and everything from leprosy to mental illnesses is the prophecy of Isaiah 53:4, “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases” (quoted in 8:17).
You see, the end is the end (telos). That is, the last verse of this pericope (v. 17) is the reason Matthew—from all the miracle stories about Jesus he could tell—tells these three. Ironically, they are portraits of power from the one who has come to bear in his own body on the cross all the disease, sickness, and ugliness of our sin (cp. 1 Peter 2:24). They are portraits of power for the powerless—an unclean leper, a Gentile’s servant, and a Jewish woman.
Picture One: The Leper
We start with the leper. “When he [Jesus] came down from the mountain, great crowds followed him. And behold, a leper came to him...” (vv. 1,2).
Like HIV/AIDS today, leprosy in ancient Israel was the most dreaded disease. Leprosy is a contagious skin disease that not only affects the skin (its color, texture, and odor) and throat (it creates a raspy voice), but also slowly destroys nerves that sense pain in our bodies. Thus, lepers often lost the tips of fingers and toes and broke limbs because they couldn’t feel the weight of something heavy or the heat of the fire or the cut of a knife.
For a Jew, however, the worst part of this disease was the necessary separateness that went along with it. According to Leviticus 13:45, 46, a leper had to wear torn clothes, keep his hair unkempt, cover his mouth, and cry out “Unclean! Unclean!” in order to prevent spreading his disease to others. Moreover, this uncleanness meant that lepers could not reside within the community of Israel; they were banished from God’s people (cp. Numbers 5:2) and temple presence.
This reality about leprosy—from the disease itself to the social and cultic separateness that went with it—is what makes verse 2 and following so remarkable: “And behold, a leper came to him [Jesus] and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.'”
His condition was so deplorable, but his faith so commendable! Look again at verses 1, 2. The leper somehow made his way through a large crowd and then jumped right into the front of the line so he might speak face-to-face with Jesus. Well, maybe not face-to-face, but face-to-foot, for notice his reverent posture: “[He] knelt before him” (v. 2). Then notice the first word out of his mouth, “Lord.” You can call Jesus “Lord” without having saving faith in him. Jesus teaches that at the end of the Sermon on the Mount. However, consistently throughout Matthew’s Gospel this title is only found on the lips of Jesus’ disciples or those who, like this leper, are sick and in desperate need of him.
It seems most likely that the title “Lord” is more than a polite or respectable “Sir” because of what the leper says next. He invokes Jesus’ Lordship. He doesn’t say, “Lord, if you can, make me clean.” Rather he says, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” This is more of a statement than a question. If it is a question, however, it’s something like, “Jesus, I recognize you have the power to make me clean. So, will you?” (cp. Daniel 3:17, 18). Notice the balance of the leper’s faith. He has confidence in Jesus (“you can heal me”) mixed with humility (“only if you will”). Now that’s faith—absolute trust in Jesus and absolute poverty of spirit before him.
What does Jesus do? He doesn’t say, “Whoa, now wait a minute... ah, why the kneeling? And what’s with the calling me ‘Lord’? And leprosy... umm that’s a tough one. I’m not a leprosy specialist.” He doesn’t say anything like that. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at first. Although he can heal just by the power of his word (as we’ll see in vv. 5-13), he doesn’t simply respond by speaking. Instead he does something remarkable. He “touched him.”. He touched a leper! “And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him” (v. 3a. What compassion (cp. Mark 1:41)! What love!
How long was this man a leper? We don’t know. How long had it been since someone had touched him? One year, two years, ten years? Can you imagine no one touching you for a month—no handshake, no hug, no holding your hand, no playful rub of the head, no hand on your shoulder? “[He] touched him.” Jesus reached out his hand and touched him. This touch is the gospel! For on one hand it’s the tangible demonstration of God’s love for us in Christ, and on the other hand it’s Jesus’ taking on all our infirmities—all our sickness and sin. It’s Isaiah 53.
According to Leviticus 5:3, Jesus becomes unclean the moment he touches this leper. Yet by means of his healing touch it’s as if he transcends the Law without abolishing it. Jesus’ touch doesn’t make Jesus unclean; rather it cleanses the unclean. But in another sense, by touching this leper Jesus is showing us that he is willing to take on his impurities and is foreshadowing his taking all of ours as well (2 Corinthians 5:21). Put differently, his mission is the cross.
So, he touches him (tenderly like a mother touches the forehead of her sick child), and then (like a foreman yelling out orders to the wrecking crew) he gives a command to that leprous body: “Be clean!” (v. 3). And what happened? The walls of sin and sickness and separation came tumbling down: “And immediately his leprosy was cleansed” (v. 4). I don’t know if scales fell off his skin, if bruises and wounds were instantaneously healed, if the tips of toes and fingers grew back, or if his face, hair, and breath were suddenly fresh and clean. But whatever it looked like, it must have been something to see.
I think that if you or I were there and were commissioned to write something about this miracle, we would have written about that detail next. Instead Matthew ends this miracle story in an odd and unspectacular way: “And Jesus said to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer the gift that Moses commanded, for a proof to them’” (v. 4). There is a proper timing to Jesus’ ministry. He doesn’t want word about him getting out too soon or in a way that is misinformed about his purposes.
So Jesus says to him, as he says to all of us, “You’ve shown faith in me. Now I want you to obey me. And to obey me is to obey God’s Word. Yes, I’ve come to establish a new kingdom, but not a novel kingdom. I’m playing by the Book. And if you want to follow me, so are you. Thus, do what the Old Testament says (see Leviticus 14). Those Mosaic cleansing rituals rituals testify of me. They witness that someone greater than Moses is here. They witness that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. They witness that the Christ has come.” As Bruner notes, “Jesus will not storm Israel with his messianic claim”; instead he will “knock quietly at its door, leper by leper, little by little.” Well said.
Picture Two: The Centurion's Servant
The second picture is in verses 5-13. Comprising this picture we find no less than seven surprises.
The first surprise is that “a centurion” approached Jesus (v. 5). Being a centurion meant two things, both very off-putting for Jews. First, he was a Gentile. He was not of the people of God. Second, he was part of the Roman military. He was oppressing the people of God. Thus, according to Jewish thinking, he was the wrong race and wore the wrong uniform.
The second surprise is that this centurion, who is under the lordship of Caesar, twice calls Jesus “Lord.” “Lord” is the first word of his request (v. 6), and “Lord” is the first word of his reply (v. 8). Even if he is speaking better than he knows (which I don’t think he is based on what he asks), again this word “Lord” in Matthew is significant symbolically. Believers call Jesus “Lord,” while non-believers call him “teacher,” “rabbi,” etc.
The third surprise is that this centurion makes an appeal on behalf of his servant, who according to the word Matthew uses in verse 6 is a “young servant” (nlt) or “young man” (ylt), perhaps a boy who was born to one of his household slaves. You say, “What’s the big deal? What’s the surprise in that?” The big deal is that in the Greco-Roman world “the average slave owner... had no more regard for his slave than for an animal.” In his Ethics, Aristotle said there should be no friendship and no justice toward inanimate things, as well as a horse, ox, or slave. Roman writers like Varro and Cato “maintained that the only difference between a slave, a beast, and a cart was that the slave talked.” So do you see the surprise? Why does this high-powered soldier’s solider care for this slave? Let him die and buy another one. Don’t humiliate yourself by begging before this beggar, Jesus.
The fourth surprise is that Jesus responds to this request, saying, “I will come and heal him" (v. 7). It is surprising that Jesus doesn’t say, “Well, let me first take a look at him and see if I can do anything for him.” Rather he says, “I will come and heal him." It is also surprising (and this surprises the centurion) that Jesus is willing to enter a Gentile’s house. Jews were prohibited from doing so It was a cultural no-no. It would be similar to a white man sitting in the back of the bus or drinking from a “black only” drinking fountain in pre-civil rights America. Jesus was willing to cross over that line.
The fifth surprise, however, is that this Gentile won't let him. “Lord,” he says I am not worthy to have you come under my roof” (v. 8). In our next passage Jesus will say that he “has nowhere to lay his head” (8:20); he has no roof over his head, or at least none that he can call his own. What is so worthy about this homeless Jew?
Do you see the humility here? A Gentile, a military leader in the world’s greatest army, a free Roman citizen, a man who has a household of slaves (which means he has some money) thinks Jesus is so worthy that it’s unthinkable that our Lord should come over and just let himself in. It’s like the Queen of England coming to town, meeting you on the street, and saying, “Oh, I’ll just stay at your house tonight.” What would you say to that? At first you would be honored. But then you’d come to your senses. And I don’t care how upscale your house might be, you would suddenly recognize what a dump it a. 'Oh, she can’t stay here.” That is this man’s disposition. He is unworthy to have royalty—the Lord—into his house.
From there we come to the sixth surprise, found in verse 8-10: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it” (vv. 8. 9). “Just say a word, Jesus. I believe it will travel far enough, quickly enough, and powerfully enough to restore my servant.”
“When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, ‘Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith’” (v. 10). This sixth surprise—this man’s faith—is what surprises Jesus. Jesus marveled that someone who didn’t grow up like Paul, for example, learning the Torah, or even like Timothy with a Jewish mother and grandmother to teach him the Scriptures, knew enough to believe in Jesus and his word. This man expressed an “unlimited confidence in the authority of Jesus.” You see, what Jesus is highlighting to his disciples, who were then all Jews, is that not even they “had shown the sincerity, sensitivity, humility, love, and depth of faith of this Gentile soldier.”
The seventh surprise follows quite naturally. It is Jesus’ provocative statements in verses 11, 12:
I tell you, many will come from east and west [i.e„ believing Gentiles] and recline at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the sons of the kingdom [i.e., unbelieving Jews] will be thrown into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
It may be surprising to some that Jesus compares the Kingdom to a feast, the best banquet ever thrown (cp. Isaiah 25:6-9; 65:13, 14; Revelation 19:9). But the greatest surprise (if I can rightly call the Scripture’s predicted inclusion of the Gentiles a surprise), especially to the Jews of Jesus’ day, is who’s in and who’s out. Even the super-religious—a Jewish Pharisee, for example—is out if he won’t bow the knee to Jesus and call him Lord. However, the Gentile military man working for the bad guys, due to his childlike faith, is in. The greatest surprise is that those who are in will become “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (Revelation 7:9). Or the greatest surprise is, in the words of Isaiah 54:1-3 (yes, from the section on the Suffering Servant; cp. Psalm 22:27, 28):
“Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,” says the Lord. “Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes. For you will spread abroad to the right and to the left [the east and the west], and your offspring will possess the nations...”
This second picture is full of surprises. The only thing that isn’t a surprise is the miracle itself in verse 13. It’s as though Matthew just tacks it on at the end. Oh, by the way, Jesus simply said, “Let it be done,” and it was done. “And the servant was healed at that very moment.”
Picture Three: The Woman
Now we come to our final picture—how (again with divine power) Jesus heals Peter’s mother-in-law.
And when Jesus entered Peter’s house, he saw his [Peter’s] mother-in-law lying sick with a fever. He touched her hand, and the fever left her, and she rose and began to serve him. (vv. 14, 15)
What is Matthew doing here? Why tell us of this third apparently minor miracle? Is he perhaps reminding Roman Catholics that Peter, the so-called first Pope, was married? I think that’s the best way to read the fact that Peter had a mother-in-law. Jerome did as well. He conceded that all the apostles except John were married (cp. I Corinthians 9:5). But I doubt that Matthew had that in mind. Was it to show that no health issue (even a fever) is too small for Jesus? I don’t think so. Was it to show that when women get healed it is then their duty to stay at home and serve men, since that’s what this woman did? I highly doubt that. Well then, was it to show that Jesus, on his own initiative (note: in this miracle he is not asked to help) can help and likes to help (he is eager to help) whomever and whenever he wants? Now we are getting somewhere. Was it to show that despite his harsh words toward the Jews in verses 11, 12 Jesus had not forsaken his chosen people like this Jew? Yes, certainly that is part of the picture.
But the main reason Matthew includes this miracle is to show that Jesus has come, in the words of Psalm 147:2, to gather “the outcasts of Israel” (a leper and a woman) and of the world (a Roman slave) to the true Israel, Jesus. You might ask, “A woman is an outcast?” In those days women were viewed as second-class citizens. In the Jewish synagogue, for example, “women were placed behind screens, to the rear, as in modern Muslim mosques.” Furthermore, “in some Jewish traditions, touching a woman [or even a woman’s hand like Jesus did here| would make [you] unclean or unholy. Jewish Halakah forbade touching persons with many kinds of fever (SBK, 1:479f.).” Along the same lines, one of the Eighteen Benedictions prayed each day by any devout Jewish man was, “Lord, I thank Thee that I was not born a slave, a Gentile, or a woman” (emphasis mine).
So, do you see what’s going on here? Oh, it’s so beautiful. Jesus’ first three recorded miracles in Matthew are of three groups of religious outcasts. In other words, Jesus is letting outsiders in. With his death the veil of the temple will be split in two. What will happen then—the benefits of the Suffering Servant—is foreshadowed here.
The temple in Jerusalem was comprised of the Holy of Holies (for the high priest) and then the Holy Place (for the priests), then the Court of Men (for Jewish men), the Court of Women (for Jewish women), then the Court of the Gentiles (for Gentile converts to Judaism), and then the outer wall of the temple complex. With these three miracles the walls to the Court of the Women are broken down, then beyond that the walls of the Court of the Gentiles, and then beyond that, the walls of the temple itself are leveled, so that even the lepers of this world can wander in. Behold, with Jesus the gates to the kingdom of heaven are open to all who believe, to all who will call him Lord and get up and serve him.
The Big Picture
I told you at the start of this tract that on my home office wall there are four ancient portraits of Jesus. In the last few pages I've shared with you how Matthew presents three pictures of Jesus and how all three display his power to the powerless.
I imagine beneath these pictures an inscription from Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” This is the big picture of Matthew’s three portraits—all people united by faith.
(R. Kent Hughes. and Douglas Sean O'Donnell., 2013; edited Carl Hinton., 2020)