The Gentle Conquerer—Matthew 12:9-21

This passage shows us that Jesus, by his gentleness, brings justice to the nations of the world. This is ironic, and Matthew knows it. How could a gentle person ever get the power to enforce justice?

Jesus just defended his disciples when they were accused of breaking the Sabbath. Now he faces the same accusation.

He went on from there and entered their synagogue. And a man was there with a withered hand. And they asked him, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”—so that they might accuse him. He said to them, “Which one of you who has a sheep, if it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will not take hold of it and lift it out? Of how much more value is a man than a sheep! So it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.” Then he said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” And the man stretched it out, and it was restored, healthy like the other. But the Pharisees went out and conspired against him, how to destroy him.

The Pharisees kept the Sabbath, the God-given day of rest, by a set of man-made rules. They taught that healing on the Sabbath was sinful, except perhaps in cases of urgency. Some Pharisees even forbade praying for healing on the Sabbath.

Jesus cuts to their hearts with a simple, common-sense argument: Every one of you would rescue his sheep if it fell in a pit on the Sabbath. This exposes their hypocrisy. It also invites us to take God’s view of the picture. What would God think if we rescued our own property on the Sabbath, but not his -- if we pulled our sheep out of the pit, but refused to heal his sheep (his people), when it was in our power to do it?

As in the previous passage, it is clear that Jesus’ idea of Sabbath-keeping is not just about us taking time off from work to pay attention to God, but also about God freeing us from discomfort and distress so that we can truly rest. And we are to be God’s servants in bringing true rest to one another.

The Pharisees, though, were impressed neither by Jesus’ argument, nor by the healing itself. For them, the point of this whole episode was to provide evidence that Jesus was definitely a troublemaker. Jesus might well quote his own words from the previous chapter: “Woe to you…for if the mighty works done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes.”

Jesus knew they wanted to get rid of him. What were his options?

1. Back down. He could stop the Sabbath-healings, admit the Pharisees were right, and hopefully save his life.

2. Push back. He could get in the Pharisees’ faces, call on the crowds to back him up, and hopefully overthrow the religious leadership and take their place.

3. Work undercover. He could keep up the healings, but do it as discreetly as possible, and delay, but probably not avoid, his own destruction.

Surprisingly (perhaps), he chose the third option.

Jesus, aware of this, withdrew from there. And many followed him, and he healed them all and ordered them not to make him known.

Why would Jesus take this route -- neither backing down and pleasing the Pharisees, nor stirring up the crowds against them, but slipping away and continuing to do healings that would likely get him into more trouble? No doubt one reason is simply his compassion. He had come to heal, and could do more healing if he got away from the criticisms of the Pharisees. It must have felt humiliating to sneak off and work in secret, but it allowed him to do what he had come to do.

But Jesus’ purposes (and God’s purposes for him) ran even deeper than this.

This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah:

“Behold, my servant whom I have chosen,

my beloved with whom my soul is well pleased.

I will put my Spirit upon him,

and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles.

He will not quarrel or cry aloud,

nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets;

a bruised reed he will not break,

and a smoldering wick he will not quench,

until he brings justice to victory;

and in his name the Gentiles will hope.”

By slipping away quietly and continuing his work, Jesus proved himself to be the gentle, peaceful servant Isaiah prophesied, who would not quarrel or yell, and who wouldn’t hurt a fly -- or, as Isaiah puts it, wouldn’t break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick.

Curiously, Isaiah claimed that the gentle servant of God would be the one to bring justice to the Gentiles -- the nations of the world, including especially the non-Jewish nations.

Gentleness and peace seem to be the exact opposite of the qualities necessary to enforce worldwide justice. One would have thought that a Jewish leader, in order to bring justice to the Gentiles, would first have to assert himself and achieve dominance among his own people -- prove himself more holy and powerful than the Pharisees and Sadducees, crush his local enemies, and win the hearts of the crowds. Then he would lead an army of Jews against the Romans and throw off their yoke.

But Isaiah foresaw a servant of God who would somehow bring justice to the nations without lifting his voice. This was Jesus, and we see him, in this passage, on the road to the throne of justice.

We also see where that road is headed. His mercy to others, and his disregard for his own safety, will lead him deeper and deeper into danger even as he saves more and more people from their illnesses and griefs. In the end, his enemies will carry out their plan and destroy him, on the cross.

A weak attempt to reform the world! But the story doesn’t end there. God will raise Jesus from the dead. This is the secret to Jesus’ road to power: His future kingship depends not at all on the support of men, of his own nation or any other, but entirely on God’s pleasure in him. In America, you have to please the voters; in Rome, you had to please the legions; but Jesus had to please no one but God. He pleased God by his perfect obedience, and by offering himself as a sinless sacrifice to pay for the sins of the people. God was pleased indeed, and gave him all authority in heaven and on earth.

So, by his gentleness, he won the victory that enabled him to fulfill Isaiah’s prophecy that he would bring justice to the Gentiles. Now, this justice is obviously a good thing, and one that the Gentiles longed for: “In him will the Gentiles hope.” A Pharisee might well have argued that the Gentiles should dread God’s justice rather than hoping in it: after all, Gentiles were sinners, alienated from God by their disobedience. Jesus would not have disagreed about them being sinners cut off from God. But he has already told us that he came to save sinners. And sinners are sufferers too. Gentiles who could not have stood innocent in a heavenly throne-room nevertheless had a genuine need for justice -- like a sick person who can’t keep down liquids still has a real need for hydration, even if he can’t receive the thing he needs. Gentiles, like Jews, needed a good king, a just king, a king who would crush oppressors, a king who would punish murderers, a king who would enforce fairness, a king who would defend them from their enemies.

Though they didn’t know it, or not clearly, they also needed a king who would endure the justice they deserved, who would take the punishment of their sins on himself. They needed a living king, and a dying king, a conquering king, and a conquered king. They needed a lion and a lamb. They needed a king who would not break a bruised reed, but would himself be broken; who would not quench a smoldering wick, but would himself be quenched. They needed a gentle conqueror.

So did you.

You have him, in Jesus. He is the world’s healer, the world’s atonement, and the world’s judge. He is the world’s only hope, and your only hope.

Pastor Nate Jeffries