MATTHEW 20:29-34
AFTER HEARING THE previous tract on the greatness of the cross—humble servanthood and sacrificial suffering—someone from my congregation quoted to me a verse from a contemporary Irish “poet.” He goes by the name of Bono and hangs out with three other guys; they call themselves U2. The verse is this:
To touch is to heal, to hurt is to steal,
If you want to kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel On your knees, boy.
The last three lines of that verse are not a bad summary of 20:17-28. If you want to kiss the sky (to be exalted in God’s heavenly kingdom), you better learn (humility) how to kneel; on your knees, boy.
With the next pericope in Matthew (20:29-34), I want you to stay there— on your knees, boy (and girl). That is, I want you to stay low to the ground because there you will see those who can’t see literally help us to see spiritually. As Jesus, his disciples, and a great crowd traveled out from Jericho, heading for Jerusalem (fifteen miles away), sitting by the side of the road were two blind men. Matthew writes, “And behold [or ‘look’], there were two blind men” (v. 30a). We’re going to lie low with them and look at them as they look to Jesus.
Look at the Crowd
However, before we look at them and then with them to Jesus, let’s look at the crowd. Jesus and the blind men are the major characters, but the minor character is the crowd. I want you to see them first.
Often in Matthew’s Gospel he intentionally contrasts different reactions to Jesus. For example, earlier in 9:27-34 Jesus heals two blind men and a mute man who was insane. Then Matthew records two reactions to those two miracles. First is the crowd. They are awestruck, and they say, “Never was anything like this seen in Israel” (v. 33). That is a good response, an accurate one. Then the Pharisees respond, saying, “He casts out demons by the prince of demons” (v. 34). That’s a bad response, and an inaccurate one.
The Pharisees are not found in our current text, but we know enough about them to assume their response. We have seen the veil over their eyes. And we know, as the seven woes of chapter 23 are on the horizon, that Jesus will call out their spiritual blindness: “Woe to you, blind guides” (23:16), “blind fools” (23:17), “blind men” (23:19), “blind Pharisees” (23:26).
But here, before and after the miracle, we have only two reactions. After the blind men “recovered their sight” (look at the end of v. 34), we read that they “followed him.” And our text starts (look at the end of v. 29), “a great crowd followed him.” The blind men followed Jesus, and the crowd followed him as well. In Matthew’s Gospel it’s a good thing to follow Jesus. “Follow me,” Jesus says, and those who follow him are to be applauded.
However, there is one extra not-to-be-applauded detail about the crowd we should notice. First, they “followed” Jesus (v. 29). Bravo. Hip, hip, hurray. But, second, they “rebuked” the two blind men (v. 31), after those blind men screamed out the greatest profession of faith in Matthew’s Gospel: “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” (v. 30c). “The crowd rebuked them, telling them to be silent” (v. 31a).
This rebuke is a small but symbolically significant action. It’s symbolic of the crowd’s faith, a “faith” that likes Jesus as mighty king, but not Jesus as merciful king, a king who came not to be served but to serve, a king who came to live and die and live again for the least—the outcasts of society, even blind beggars.
Jesus here was intentionally traveling the same route of Joshua’s conquest of the promised land. (Remember, in Greek the name “Jesus” is the equivalent of “Joshua” in Hebrew.) So as he is coming through and out of Jericho up to Jerusalem, this crowd likes what it sees. But the irony of the short, significant phrase “followed him” shouldn't be lost on us. We can appropriately add the word “now” to it. They followed him now. For we know that while Jesus entered Jerusalem with a great entourage, he would leave the holy city, a week later, dead and buried, alone in a borrowed tomb.
So look here to the crowd, and see that they follow the right Jesus in the wrong way. The lesson for us is not to follow them in the way they followed him.
It’s only natural and thus tempting to follow the crowd. I’m sure all of us have asked our mothers for something—can we go to this movie, stay over at that friend’s house, or go to that birthday party?—and our mother said, “No, you can’t.” Then in response our best line of defense was “But everybody’s doing it” or “Everybody’s going.” That line of reasoning never worked on my mother and likely not on yours either. She returned to the old cliche, “If everyone jumped in a lake, would you jump in a lake?” And in my heart I always thought, “Yes. That’s why I’m asking you. I want to jump in the lake because everyone is jumping in the lake.”
We will always be tempted to follow the crowd. And here we should learn there are plenty of people who follow the right Jesus in the wrong way. And thus when they strayed off the hard and hot narrow way to jump in that cool lake, we should not jump in with them.
Jacob Reynolds, the principal of the Irish Bible Institute in Dublin, shared a personal story that relates to this point about the crowd. He was converted to Christ as a young man, in the early 1970s in Ireland. In those days being a Catholic in the Republic of Ireland was much like being a Muslim in Saudi Arabia. It was the state religion. It was a cultural identity marker. If you’re Irish, you’re Catholic! Well, Jacob’s Catholic “faith” was only a matter of going through the motions, as it was for nearly everyone in those days. A new archbishop was recently quoted in the Irish Times saying that Roman Catholics need to have a “personal relationship” with Jesus. Jacob said that that kind of talk was never heard in his days.
Jacob started attending a small faith-filled Baptist gathering. There were only about twenty to thirty people. But as a good Catholic (and so as not to offend his family and everyone in town) he would go to Mass before hanging out with the Baptists. The Mass he attended was at the Church of Our Lady of Lourdes, a large church in downtown Drogheda. These were the days when 95 percent of the Irish population went to Mass. So on a Sunday morning there were 2,000 people in attendance. One day as Jacob was there going through the motions of the Mass, he thought to himself, How can this many people be wrong? How can twenty-five be right and 25,000 be wrong?
The Gospel reading for that day was from Matthew 27, the story of the release of the notorious prisoner Barabbas. Pilate asked the crowd, “Whom do you want me to release for you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?” (v. 17). The crowd said, “Barabbas” (v. 21). Then Pilate said to them, “Then what shall I do with Jesus?” The crowd said, “Let him be crucified!” Pilate said, “Why, what evil has he done?” And the crowd shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!” (vv. 22, 23). So Pilate released Barabbas and had Jesus whipped and delivered over to be crucified (v. 26).
After the priest read that Gospel reading, Jacob thought to himself, If the crowd was wrong then, they can be wrong now. He never went back.
In the Gospels, as it often is in life, the crowd is usually going in the wrong direction. Don’t follow them. The crowd here followed the right Jesus in the wrong way.
Look at the Blind Men
Next let’s look at the blind men. I’ll phrase the second point (as it relates to them) like this: Look, the blind “see” before they see. My cleverness will be clear in a moment. Look at verses 30-32:
And behold, there were two blind men sitting by the roadside, and when they heard that Jesus was passing by, they cried out, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” The crowd rebuked them, telling them to be silent, but they cried out all the more, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” And stopping, Jesus...
Jesus does what? He doesn’t rebuke them—“Hush! Be quiet. Not now. My time is not yet at hand” (cp. 9:30). No. He doesn’t rebuke them this time because his time is at hand (20:18, 19). He is going up to Jerusalem to go up on a cross. And it is his reluctance to denounce such titles—Lord, Son of David, and with those, Son of Man and Son of God—that will get him where it got him.
“And stopping, Jesus called them and said, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’” (v. 32). “Do you want money? Or do you want something more from me? Do you really believe that I'm the Son of David and thus able to cure blindness, your deepest need?” “They said to him, ‘Lord, let our eyes be opened’” (v. 33).
These guys are blind, yet they see Jesus as the Davidic king and as, I think and will argue for, the Lord God. In other words, they get Jesus' identity. Of all people, they see him for who he is!
Let’s see what they see. First, they see Jesus as the Davidic king. If you were to ask me, what are the five most important chapters in the Old Testament? I would say, “Genesis 1 (leading up to Genesis 2,3—creation and the fall), Genesis 12 (God’s covenant with Abraham that through Abraham the Lord would bless the nations, repeated in Genesis 15 and 17), Exodus 20 or Deuteronomy 5 (the Ten Commandments), 2 Samuel 7 (God’s covenant with David), and Isaiah 53 (the Suffering Servant). Now we can argue if my top five are your top five (would you substitute Psalm 2, 110, Deuteronomy 4, or Jeremiah 31 for one or two of mine?), but I will wrestle and pin you hard to the floor over 2 Samuel 7. I am bigger than most people. Don’t fight me over that one.
In 2 Samuel 7 God promised David an eternal king and kingdom through his offspring. Here are some of the key verses:
The Lord declares to you [David] that the Lord will make you a house. When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers [when you die], I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. (2 Samuel 7:11b-13)
Matthew’s Gospel begins, “The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David...”(1:1). In 12:23, after a great miracle, the crowd asks, “Can this be the Son of David?”—that is, the Messiah, the Christ, the promised offspring of David (cp. John 7:42). Then that question is answered in faith by three unlikely candidates—children, crying out in the temple, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” (21:15); a Canaanite woman (a female Gentile): “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David” (15:22); and two sets of two blind men, who share the chorus, “Have mercy on us, Son of David” (9:27; 20:30, 31). Moreover, the final and climactic time we hear the term “Son of David” comes in Jesus’ dialogue with the Pharisees. In his complex question to the Pharisees he asks:
“What do you think about the Christ? Whose son is he?” They said to him, “The son of David.” He said to them, “How is it then that David, in the Spirit, calls him Lord, saying, 'The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet'? If then David calls him Lord, how is he his son?” (22:42-45)
Jesus silenced them then (22:46). But he doesn’t silence us now. With those Jewish children, that Gentile woman, and these two blind men, we shout, “Jesus, you are the Son of David! You are the promised king, who came from David's line to rule an everlasting kingdom.” We shout and celebrate what Paul calls the gospel—“Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David” (2 Timothy 2:8).
As Jesus connects the terms “Lord” and “son of David” in 22:41-45, so these blind men make the same connection. These two men give eyewitness testimony (minus the eyes) to the true identity of Jesus. He is both the human “Son of David” and the divine son of God. Three times they call Jesus “Lord.” Each time they open their mouths, that’s the first word out.
The term “Lord" (kyrios in Greek) could simply mean “sir,” like when the waiter comes to your table and says, “Sir, can I take your order?” It’s just a term of respect. But here I think it means much more than that from them, and certainly from Matthew as he has chosen to record it for the Ecclesia (in his Gospel only true believers call Jesus “Lord”). They ask Jesus and him alone (they don’t ask him to ask God) to do what only God does in the Old Testament and what Isaiah’s Servant will do when he comes—open the eyes of the blind. Their “Lord” equals “Lord” in the Old Testament because it’s combined with the title “Son of David,” a plea for mercy, a specific request for sight.
Think of the times the prophets cured the blind. You can’t think of any? Okay. Think of all the times the apostles opened the eyes of the blind. You can’t think of any? Okay. Think of the times today’s faith healers have given sight to the blind. You can’t think of any? How about Jesus? Jesus alone in the Bible and Jesus alone in world history (as far as I’m concerned) gives sight to the blind. Why? Because Jesus alone is the Son of God.
After the Meeting I will sometimes ask my little ones what they learned in Sunday school. Let’s say, for example, the story was about the miracle of the man with the withered hand. With something like that I might start with a simple question like, “So who performed that miracle?” Charlotte, my youngest, might say, “God.” And I’ll say, “Well, yes, dear, God, but ‘Jesus’ is the better answer.”
Throughout the Gospel of Matthew the persistent underlining question is, who is Jesus? or perhaps better, is Jesus who Matthew says he is, especially at the top and tail of his Gospel? Is Jesus Immanuel, “God with us” (1:23) and thus with us always until the end of the age (28:20)? Is Jesus the Son of David, the King of Israel (1:1), for the nations (28:19)?
In chapter 21 (and I’ll add this transition passage, 20:29-34), as one scholar puts it, “Matthew gives us what we can fairly call a summary Christology. Here all that Jesus is and has shown himself to be so far in this Gospel is summarized in a comprehensive way for the Ecclesia.” This scholar divides chapter 21 like this: Jesus is:
The Merciful Lord
The Modest King
The Mighty Prophet
Whether those divisions and designations are right or not, we shall see. But what we are certainly to see here is that these blind men see. They “see” before they see. They see Jesus as the Son of David (the promised King) and Jesus as Lord. And we are to see him as they saw him.
Look at Jesus
First, we looked at the crowd, and we saw that they followed the right Jesus in the wrong way. Second, we looked at the blind men, and we saw that in cases like this the blind “see” before they see. Finally, we will now look upon Jesus. I’ll phrase the final point this way: Look, Jesus acts as they ask. The two blind men ask Jesus to act as merciful Lord, and that is how he acts. Note again verses 31-34.
The crowd rebuked them, telling them to be silent, but they cried out all the more, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” And stopping, Jesus called them and said, "What do you want me to do for you?” They said to him, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” And Jesus in pity touched their eyes, and immediately they recovered their sight and followed him.
Here Jesus acts as Lord. They ask for restored sight, and he restores their sight. He does it “immediately.” He makes no magic incantation. He needs no mediating staff or rod. He offers no prayer to Heaven. “What do you want me to do for you?” Me? Jesus, do you mean to say that the powers and prerogatives God alone possesses you also possess? This miracle is a divine miracle. Jesus acts as God alone would and could act. He acts as they ask. They ask for the Lord to heal their blindness, and the Lord heals their blindness.
Yes, here Jesus acts as Lord, but note also that he acts (as they ask) as merciful Lord. Verse 34 is a “touching” verse, in both senses of the word: “And Jesus in pity touched their eyes, and immediately they recovered their sight and followed him.” Here Matthew tells us what Jesus felt and did. He felt “pity,” or it can be translated “compassion,” a common enough characteristic of his (cp. 9:36; 14:14; 15:32). It's that deep-down feeling of heartache for someone. One scholar translates the blind men’s plea as “Have a heart for us, O Lord, Son of David!” and translates Jesus’ internal reply as “Jesus’ heart went out to them.”
His heart went out to them, as did his hand or hands. “Jesus in pity touched their eyes.” Here he heals not by word but by deed and by deed alone—a mere touch. This is so very Matthew, and so very Jesus—he touches the untouchables. He has no problem curing with a word from a distance
(8:5-13). But whenever “the disease is particularly loathsome (leprosy or blindness with its running sores), Jesus touches it (cp. 8:3; 9:29). Jesus moves in where others usually” move out or move away or move on. Look here at Jesus! What deep-hearted mercy from the merciful Lord! This Davidic king, greater than Solomon, “delivers the needy when he calls, the poor and him who has no helper” (Psalm 72:12).
Recently my wife, Emily, and I got away for two days. We went to Carmel, Indiana. All the flights to Cancun were booked. She was there for a one-day conference. I was there on vacation. On vacation I edited my old talk manuscripts at the downtown Indianapolis Starbucks. Let’s just say I know how to relax. While there, working but not working, a few homeless men came in and out of the coffeehouse.
One guy was about thirty. He came in with his ragged backpack and a plastic milk crate with his stuff stuffed in it. At first I felt sorry for him. But then he grabbed a table, took out a wad of dollar bills, and began counting them. One, two, three, four. He must have counted to forty. Well, my pity turned into indignation. I thought to myself, You're young. You’re fit. You’re seemingly of a right mind. What are you doing? Stop conning people at the central city square and get a job, you bum. Maybe I need a real vacation.
But when another man walked in, and he was old, unfit, not in his right mind, I pitied him. And if he asked me for money. I would have given him something.
In Jesus’ day beggars would congregate outside the city walls to ask travelers for money, much like the homeless today hang out at the train station, near a ball park, or outside (or inside) coffeehouses. When Jesus encountered these blind beggars outside of Jericho, he encountered two men who had lost their livelihoods. Note that they “recovered their sight,” which likely implies that they once could see, they once had a way of making a living. But now they join “the guiltless poor,” as Jeremiah would call them (Jeremiah 2:34)— widows, orphans, the mute, the lame. That is, through no fault of their own they had to rely on the mercy of others to live. These men spent their days outside the city, without shelter, sitting on the ground, calling out to each person who passed by, “Please, can you spare some change?”
Imagine having this “livelihood.” Day after day person after person ignores you or gives you a sad smile you cannot see. Someone tosses a coin in the coffer. Someone gives you a pair of old gloves or a worn, oversized, or undersized garment. But nobody stops to talk to you. Nobody stops to touch you—except the King of the Nobodies—Jesus of Nazareth! He hears their cry. He stops to talk. He stops to touch. He stops to put a stop to their suffering.
The merciful Lord stops to lift up “those who are bowed down”; the merciful Lord stops to open “the eyes of the blind” (Psalm 146:8). With one touch these blind men see. They see the beauties of Jericho, a city in the desert that is full of life—fresh water, palm trees, fruits, etc. They see each other for the first time. “Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus [Mark 10:46], so good to finally see you, friend.” They see Jesus. They see Jesus spiritually and now literally. They see “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:6).
My brothers and sisters, just think about the compassion here. Coming out of verses 17-28, don’t you think Jesus has enough on his mind—his inhumane torture and brutal death? Crucifixion was the worst way to die. And yet here he stops to put himself in their shoes and to get them out of their shoes. But why? Why, when the mission of the cross was so close at hand, did he take time to bother with these blind beggars—men “at the bottom of the social scale,” the “no-accounts in Israel,” and perhaps even religious outcasts? Note they are sitting, not traveling, as they should be, to Jerusalem for the Passover. Why them? Why then? The reason is that many of the “many” he would ransom (20:28) would be (and still are) from the lowliest of the low. The reason is that he is the compassionate King of everybody and of the nobodies.
Come to the Compassionate Christ
Now listen and listen carefully. Let me end not with a summary of all we have learned (points one, two, and three), but rather with a plea. Here it is.
If you’re not Baptised, I don’t know what you are thinking. I don’t. Look at this merciful man, the Lord Jesus Christ. Look at the claims of Christ. But look also at the compassion of Christ. The compassion of Christ should be enough to soften your hard heart. Enough with your excuses. Your rebellion against the King stops here. Put down your arms, and throw up your arms in surrender. The compassionate King has come to conquer your heart. He is here today to break down the walls of your personal Jericho.
Come to him—to this compassionate Christ! Come to him as these two blind men came to him. They never saw Jesus’ miracles (how could they?), and yet they believed. “Faith comes from hearing” (Romans 10:17), not from seeing. You don’t need to see in order to believe; you need to believe in order to see. You need to listen to the truth of the gospel.
Come to him—to this compassionate Christ! Come to him as these two blind men came to him. Come, as they did, acknowledging your inability to help yourself and the surety that Jesus can help you, even help you with your deepest need.
Come to him—to this compassionate Christ! Come to him as these two blind men came to him. Come, as they did, with faith and faith alone, a faith alone that trusts in Christ’s person and power alone and then follows Christ alone. The blind men offered Jesus nothing in return except everything— “they recovered their sight and followed him" (v. 34). Mark adds “on the way” (Mark 10:52). Coming out of 20:18, 19, 28 we might add, “on the way to the cross.” He’s going up to Jerusalem, and those whose sight is restored by him follow him up there as well.
So come to him—to this compassionate Christ! Come to him as these two blind men came to him. Come, as they did, unashamedly confessing before others (cp. 10:32) that Jesus is Christ and Jesus is Lord! And when any so- called disciples of Jesus tell you to quiet down, redouble your efforts. With even greater determination, shout over the noise of hypocrisy, “Lord! Lord! Lord! Son of David! Son of David! Lord, have mercy on me!”
(R. Kent Hughes. and Douglas Sean O'Donnell., 2013; edited Carl Hinton., 2020)